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THE OVERTURE 

AND OTHER POEMS 



'h^>^° 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO 
SAN FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN & CO., Limited 

LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 

TORONTO 



THE OVERTURE 

AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 
JEFFERSON BUTLER FLETCHER 

AUTHOR OF "THE RELIGION OF BEAUTY IN WOMAN," 
ETC. 



¥eto fork 
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

1911 

All rights reserved 



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Copyright, 191 i, 
By the MACMILLAN COMPANY. 



Set up and electrotyped. Published September, xgiZt 



M 



J. 8. Gushing Co. — Berwick & Smith Co. 
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 



Ci.A297206 



TO MY WIFE 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Overture 3 

Sky-Children 26 

To Dante 29 

The Ransom 33 

A True-Love-Knot 63 

Miserere, Domine ! 56 

The Daisy-Field 63 

Truce of God 64 

New Life 69 

Lilith and Cain 70 

Lilith: Mother of Sin 73 

Harmonics 80 

After Poliziano . .81 

" For They Laid the Land of Desire Desolate " . . 85 

Michelangelo . 93 

Michelangelo 94 

At the Last Judgment 95 

The Balm of Peace 99 

Spring 101 

Demos Triumphant 103 

vii 



VIU TABLE OF CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Seven Sandwichmen on Broadway .... 105 

The Glory that was Spain ...... 107 

On " First and Last Things " 109 

"A Holy and Humble Man of Heart " . . .112 

To a Poet of Paradox 113 

The Children's Hour 115 

Homo Sum ......... 116 

The Beatitude of Dante 117 

Eden Bower 119 

' ' When They Had Slain Their Children to Their Idols " 121 

The Serpent on the Hearth 123 

Guido Cavalcanti 136 

Guido Cavalcanti to Dante Alighieri .... 137 

Petrarch 138 

Petrarch 140 

Petrarch ...» 142 

Petrarch 143 

Petrarch 144 

Petrarch 146 

Petrarch 148 

Petrarch 150 

Petrarch 152 

Galeazzo Da Tarsia 154 

Lorenzo De' Medici 156 

*' Honor Thy Father and Thy Mother " . . .158 

Riverside 161 



TABLE OF CONTENTS IX 

PAGE 

Night-Piece . , . , 163 

Love is Life 165 

The Pledge 166 

The Round of Pleasure ...... 167 

The Service of the Leaves 169 

To an Empty Locust Shell in Autumn . . . .170 

The Thornapple Tree 172 

To a June-Bug 174 

Lost 176 

Hidden Blessings 179 

Orchids 182 

The Unimpressionable Bee 184 

Under the Matrimony-Vine 186 

Christopher Sly Awakes 189 

The First Pair of Shoes : Cobbler's Song . . .191 

Inquisitive Quatrains 194 

Belle-o'-the-May 196 

The City-Child 198 

The Lesson 200 

A Nice (?) Distinction 203 



THE OVEETURE AND OTHER 
POEMS 



THE OVERTUEE 

Persons 
richard. hans. cosima. 

{It is evening. Cosima bends towards the fire^ 
which lights up her face, Richard leans on 
the mantel, watching her. Through a door 
ajar is heard a piano, softly hut distinctly. 
They listen in silence for a few minutes. 
Suddenly Cosima starts.) 

COSIMA 

Richard, I cannot like it. 

RICHARD 

Cosima! 



4 THE OVERTURE 

COSIMA 

Nay, I have hurt you ! Yet I meant not 

yet 
It frightens me! 

EICHARD 

Then I have failed! 



But 



COSIMA 

Oh, no! 



RICHARD 

Well? 

COSIMA {with a nervous laugh) 

Once on a lonesome countryside 
I heard a crazed girl sing to a wild moon : 
Moon, I bind thee by this rite, 
Shine upon my love to-night : 



THE OVERTURE 5 

If he seek me, Moon, shine bright ; 

If he shun me, mad Moon, bhght ! 

Hear my wrong, and work my right: 

Dead or Hving, late or soon. 

Draw him hither by thy hght, 
Moon! 
I was a child, and in my ears for weeks 
The weird chant rang. I heard it in my 

dreams. 
Then, as a child will, I forgot . . . until 
Just now, as Hans played, through your 

music throbbed 
Once more that same low sobbing tune! 



RICHAED 

And you 



Were frightened — why ? 



6 THE OVERTURE 

COSIMA 

I cannot say . . . unless 
Maybe, the child I was, hearing, waked up 
To its child's terror. Let it pass, and — 

listen 1 
{A pause. The music grows more passionate, 
CosiMA shivers once or twice; at last 
gets up and moves restlessly about the 
room, Richard follows her with his 
eyes.) 

COSIMA {half to herself) 
It speaks . . . that which I may not hear, 

and be . . . 
That which I am ! {She goes to the door.) 

Hans ! 



THE OVERTURE 7 

BICHARD 

Hush ! (Coldly.) Your husband plays 
To me. Will you forbid him for — a whim ? 

cosiMA (sinking into a chair) 
Forgive ! (She laughs nervously.) Have you 

inwoven here a spell 
Caught from some wizard or weird sister's 

lips, 
Richard ? Have you invoked the two-horned 

moon — 
Like my poor love-crazed girl ? 

RICHARD 

Why not ? 

COSIMA (staring at him) 

Why . . . not . . .? 



8 THE OVERTURE 

EICHARD 

My music tells — a tale. You have for- 
gotten — 

{He recites with ironical gayety.) 
How Tristan fetched Iseult the Fair 

Home to King Mark — a bride ; 
And how Iseult loved young Tristan, 

And he loved her, and died. 

cosiMA (slowly) 
And in your music sings the spell they drank ? 
So I forgot . . . 

EICHARD (calmly) 
King Mark ? 

COSIMA (blankly) 

King . . . Mark . . .? 



THE OVERTURE 9 

{A long paicse, during which Cosima, after a 
furtive glance at Richard, stares mutely 
into the fire. Her hand, hanging over the 
chair-arm, is tightly clenched. The 'music 
grows softer, pleading,) 

KICHARD 

The spell 
Works, Cosima : listen, now it is they love. 

COSIMA (as if not hearing) 
And how Iseult loved young Tristan, 
And he loved her, and died ! . . . 
And died? Runs the old tale not so? He 

died. 
Yes, it were better love should die — such 
love! 



10 THE OVERTURE 

And poor King Mark, he loved her too . . . 

did he 
Too die? 

RICHARD {with bitterness) 
Aye, full of years — at peace ! 

COSIMA 

That's well. 

RICHARD 

Well ? True, for Mark the King, that sage, 

calm man, 
That very calm, sage, temperate man ! He 

loved ? 
No, he conceived it wisdom to be wed, — 
A comfortable course approved of old 
To purge young perilous humors, to base 

firm 



THE OVERTURE 11 

Dynasties, to console old lonesome age ! 
What knew King Mark of loving or — Iseult ? 

COSIMA 

Hush, Richard, Hans . . . 

RICHARD {interrupting) 

Would think it blasphemy 
So to profane his music — nay, 'tis mine. 
Good, sage, calm Hans, whose pulse has never 

beat 
ViDace, — save when the score was marked 

Vivace ! 
Well, I'll not mar his music : I'll speak lower. 

COSIMA 

You must not speak this way of my . . , 
your friend. 



12 THE OVERTURE 

Has he not helped you in your bitter need ? 
You have desponded, — did he mock you 

then? 

KiCHARD {with sudden passion) 
Yes, he has helped me in my bitter need ! 
I was lonely ; and he took me home — to 

you! 
Downcast ; and he lifted me — to you ! 
Heartsick ; and he healed my heart — with 

you! 
I have desponded; would he not mock me 

now? 
{Again with ironical levity.) 

Good Mark the King loved young 
Tristan. 
(Heigho, King Mark was blind !) 



THE OVERTURE 13 

But — ''Woe is me," cried young 
Tristan, 
''That ever King Mark was kind !" 

cosiMA {starting to her feet) 
Richard, you dare ! 

RICHARD {fiercely) 
Sit down ! 
{They face each other for a moment; then 
CosiMA sinks down, covering her face in 
her hands. The music grows again pas- 
sionate.) 

Hear you those chords 

Torn from the dumb heart of this instru- 
ment. 

That wail and plead, — yes, triumph — if 
love lives? 



14 THE OVERTURE 

His are deft hands that draw them forth : his 

mind 
Is unperturbed, bent on its task ; whilst mine, 
Like some raw captain, bUnd with too much 

zeal, 
Cried Halt ! yet Forward ! till my fingers, 

dazed, 
Broke in confusion all along the — keys ! 
You think I jest ? Not so. I state his case; 
He, mine ! Hear the poor innocent, how he 

woos — 
King Mark woos Iseult for Tristan ! Cosima, 
You are the instrument we play on, he 
And I : under his even, passionless touch 
You have chimed here in sweet treble, like a 

child 



THE OVERTURE 15 

White-robed before an altar, wistfully 

Singing it knows not what. 

{The music has stopped. In the doorway ap- 
pears Hans, smiling genially. As he lis- 
tens, unperceived, the smile knots into pain.) 
And that was good, — 

Better, God knows, than these harsh jangling 
chords 

I draw from the deep woman's heart of yours 

That slept, but is awakened now forever. 

Cosima, we have drunken of the draught : 

It works ! There is no power can now undo 

Its working . . . 

COSIMA {in mournful abstraction) 
. . . Iseult loved young Tristan, 
And he loved her, and died ! 



16 THE OVERTURE 

RICHARD {vehemently) 

No, no ! He lived ! Think you he lived be- 
fore? 

He died? Well, so have all men; yet he 
lived — 

Yes, in his love's brief moment he outlived 

Them that bore out his body. Why, were 
Hans 

Even here and heard (Hans starts) and 
killed me — as were just — 

Yet because you have loved me — as I see — 

In this swift moment I outlive his years. 
(Hans makes a despairing gesture.) 
cosiMA (brokenly) 

Wherefore not die then . . . now ... to- 
gether ? 



THE OVERTURE 17 

Hans {advancing into the room) 

No! 
(CosiMA gives a gasping cry. Richard stands 
erect. A long pause, during which the 
two men stare at each other. Then Hans 
points commandingly towards the open 
door. Richard hesitates ; then says mean- 
ingly.) 

RICHARD 

And she . . . ? 

HANS {with an effort) 
Still to me is more sacred than . . . 

RICHARD {fiercely) 
You lie I 

HANS 

{with still more evident effort at self-control) 
Not in her presence . . . now ! . . . 

B 



18 THE OVERTURE 

RICHARD {bowing stiffly) 

Your pardon ! 

To-morrow then ? 

{He goes slowly out. At the door he turns 
impulsively, as if to speak; hut as Hans 
still points grimly, he goes out, Hans 
paces the floor agitatedly, Cosima, ivho 
has sunk back into her chair, sobs. After 
some minutes, without looking at Hans, 
she rises, and staggers towards the door.) 

HANS {coldly) 
Sit down ! 

cosiMA {with wildness) 

Let me go . , . I . . . ! . 

HANS 

No! 



THE OVERTURE 19 

COSIMA 

{suddenly drawing herself up, and facing him) 
Well? 

HANS 

In good time. Sit down ! 

COSIMA 

I will not. 

(Hans shrugs and resumes his pacing.) 

COSIMA {after a pause) 

Speak ! 
{In a lower tone) Kill me ! 

HANS 

Tut, tut ! You have mistaken your stage-cue : 
I am no more King Mark than — Iseult you, 
Or Tristan he. I am a plain trousered man 



20 THE OVERTURE 

Whose wife fancies another trousered man. 
Sit down, I say; and we will try — you 

hear ! — 
Will try to see things as they are. You two 
Love — so it seems — each other : you, my 

wife — 
These almost ten years long my wife, — and 

he, 
The friend I loved next you this side . . . 

well, well. 
No use in this ! . . . You love, — well, 

what^s to do ? 

cosiMA (impulsively) 

Forget ! 

HANS (vaguely) 
Forget? Forget . . . what? 



THE OVERTURE 21 

cosiMA {with ever increasing exaltation) 

That he came 
Between us. You are right: 't was but a 

fancy, 
Mere fancy of an idle, bad, blind child. 
Now she is woman, and . . . still, Hans . . . 

your wife ! 

HANS {in tense, even tones) 
Yes, you are woman, — so he said ; a child 
Once in this house, he said; but where — 

when — wife f 
Cosima, I have sometimes thought the Christ 
Missed the one sacrifice : he never loved 
A woman, never yielded up a woman 
Because there loved her one he had called 

friend. 



22 THE OVERTURE 

I will . . . Oh, no, I will not so blas- 
pheme ! . . . 

I make no sacrifice : I do not love ! 

Did not your lover say I could not love, — 

I, such a commonplace, mechanic man ? 

And could one love, yet give away his love ? 

If I gave you to him, then I loved not ; 

Therefore it were no sacrifice, therefore 

You must not thank me, you and he, be- 
cause 

It were but . . . 

cosiMA {looking Mm steadily in the face) 

Were but, Hans, a sacrifice 
To pride ! 

HANS 

To pride, — yes, that is it. Why not ? 



THE OVERTURE 23 

Should not a man have pride ? Have I not 
talent, 

Strength, industry to get myself a name ? . . . 

A true wife, as it seems, is but a name ! . . . 

Why, do you hold yourself so necessary. 

You think that losing you, I lose . . . well, 
what? 

What is best nameless ! You it is are proud ! 

You pity, — aye, most charitably you pro- 
fess 

Contrition, and will be — oh, generous ! — 

My dutiful wife! Well, I admire your 
penance ; 

I should be proud ! 

cosiMA {brokenly) 

You are all too unjust ! 



24 THE OVERTURE 

HANS 

Unjust, too? On my word, I'm worse and 

worse ! 
Will you deny in me forbearance next 
Towards our joint friend ? 

cosiMA {timidly) 
To-morrow, Hans, — you two . . . 

HANS 

Meet? It may be. What then? He will 

come back. 
(Abruptly.) Good-night. 
(On his way to the door, he pauses and turns, 
then continues almost lightly.) 

Wait. It is early. (Significantly.) 
I must sleep — 
To-morrow! I'll play his music once again. 



THE OVERTURE 25 

When was such music ? what a master, eh ? 

{He goes out Cosima stands panting; hut 
as the first bars are heard, played with a 
grotesque accelerando, she claps both hands 
over her ears, shrieks, and falls in a dead 
faint. The music goes on, while the 
curtain falls very slowly.) 



26 SKY-CHILDREN 

SKY-CHILDREN 

CHILDREN 

Cherubim ! Cherubim ! 
How will you dance ? 

CHERUBIM 

Just as wee motes where 
Sunbeams glance. 

CHILDREN 

Cherubim ! Cherubim ! 

Supposing one cries, 
How shall he wipe 

His poor wet eyes ? 

CHERUBIM 

Innocents ! Innocents ! 
If one should cry, 



SKY-CHILDREN 27 

Out in the wind 

He would fly, fly, fly, — 

Just as the dewy 

Dripping bees 
Back in the Earth-time 

Dried in the breeze. 

CHILDEEN 

Cherubim ! Cherubim ! 

Tired are we ; 
Put us to sleep 

Where the light won't see. 

CHERUBIM 

Lullaby ! Lullaby ! 
On our soft wings. 



28 SKY-CHILDREN 

When the winds blow, 
Every one swings. 

When the stars whisper, 
Little ears, hark ! 

Lower, lids, lower ! 
Hush ! alFs dark. 



TO DANTE 29 

TO DANTE 
O thou who, risen on dream-wings of love, 
In heaven heldst parley with transfigured 

stars, 
Which for thy confirmation shaped the Cross, 
And justified by sign the Imperial Eagle, — 
Thou who, yet mortal, saw thine immortal 

lady 
At peace by Rachel in the mystic Rose, — 

Dante, doubt like a worm has sapped that 

rose ; 
Thy seven spheres move not to laws of love ; 
Red comets sweep where, throned, abode thy 

lady; 
Angels no longer pilot the blind stars ; 



30 TO DANTE 

Clipped are the talons of Rome's haughty- 
Eagle ; 
And pales for men the glory of the Cross. 

Of blindness men must bear again their 

cross ; 
Thy faiths, like petals from a faded rose, 
Are fallen away; hadst thou now eye of 

eagle 
And spirit howe'er patient in its love, 
Forever mightst thou search the huddled 

stars, 
Nor find among them thy once buried lady. 

Ah, who might tell thee where abides thy 

lady? 
His lips are mute who died upon the Cross ; 



TO DANTE 31 

And vacantly they stare, the senseless stars : 
Tell me thou, rather, where is last year's rose. 

— In eagle's ejry nests a dove : thy love, 
Fond poet, is the dove ; and death the eagle. 

We grope in light ; nor may, like fabled eagle, 
Gaze on the sun unblinded ; no throned lady, 
Down from God's threshold stooping, lifts 

through love 
The doubt that weighs upon us like a cross : 
Wherefore we gather, while it blows, the 

rose. 
Lest we find not another in the stars. 

And if we in our fear beseech the stars. 

We are like lambs bleating beneath the eagle. 

— Ah, Dante, he that drew thee with a rose 



32 TO DANTE 

And with the book wherein thou sangst thy 

lady, 
Saw not the subtle preacher of the Cross, 
But loved, as we, the singer of man's love. 

Thy figured stars but shape for us who love. 

An eagle bearing in his beak a rose 

To deck a lady martjnred on death's cross. 



THE RANSOM 33 

THE RANSOM 

Then He is gracious unto him, and saith, Deliver 
him from going down to the pit : I have found a 
ransom. — Job xxxiii. 24. 

I 

"What is this love," he sneered, "which puts 

me off 
With words? That way half-hearted 

women use, 
Guarding their precious souls!'' Stung 

by the scoff, 
She answered: "Dear, I think that I could 

lose 
My soul only in losing thine ; that lost, 
God's heaven itself were little to refuse." 

c 



34 THE RANSOM 

At that I heard him laugh. ^^ Perchance this 
boast/' 
He said, ^Hhou one day must make good; 

to-night 
Give me of love an earnest at less cost." 
He spoke, cajoling. I saw her lip turn 
white 
Where her small teeth met in it, while 

young shame 
Strove with strong passion in a losing fight. 
But when the sated beast in him grew tame 
And slept, lightly he put her to one side, 
Saying : '^Indeed her frailty was to blame : 
Did she not lure me in her woman's pride ? 
She had her will : let her then bear the 
cost." 



THE RANSOM 35 

He went his ways ; while she sat wistful- 
eyed. 
'^ Will he not pity me when I am lost ?" 
She said, — ''when I have given my soul 

for his?" 
Until illumined with such faith her ghost 
I saw drift through the vale where no light is. 

II 

Then in my dream I saw him where he lay 
Dying in his own bed ; the while his kin 
Watched, and some wept, and others I 
heard pray. 
Their prayers were like a veil before his sin ; 
And their tears gentlier dropped upon his 

pride 
Than a cool ointment on a blistered skin. 



36 THE RANSOM 

Yea, and behind their prayers he thought to 
hide 
From God. ^' Will not His vengeance pass 

me by, 
Seeing how I of men am justified ? " 

He thought Then his death-cry 

I heard ; and felt, it seemed, my substance 

drawn. 
Even as a thread is through a needless 
eye. 
Into his body ; and knew that all were gone 
Save I, who clothed again in flesh and 

blood. 
Gazed now in awe. Between me and the 
dawn 
Breaking upon far hills, a woman stood. 



THE RANSOM 37 

III 

She stood before me, meekest of earth's 
daughters ; 

Albeit beside my swarthiness she gleamed 

Bright as the sun's way over rippling 
waters. 
Her raiment flowed forth, living, all un- 
seamed, 

Out of her living substance, white as 
pearl ; 

But where it touched her flesh, like flesh it 
seemed. 
From under her bare feet I saw upcurl 

Live wings of flame. Upon her, face to 
face, 

I dared not look ; but like a conscious girl 



38 THE RANSOM 

Whose nakedness is seen and her disgrace, 
My spirit cowered, whispering a name. 
So stood we motionless a httle space. 
She with outstretched arms, I bowed in 
shame 
And meekly pitiful, she wept. (I felt 
Her tears.) Then closer unto me she 
came; 
And presently I knew that she there knelt, 
And spake, — in tones like faint familiar 

chimes 
Of church-bells in a dream where childhood 
dwelt 
In joy. ^^ Rememberest thou?'' Three times 
She spake the words. Speechless I cringed 
the while, 



THE RANSOM 39 

As a man faced with long-evaded crimes, 
Who casts in mind to cover guilt with guile ; 
And then I felt her soft lips touch my 

hand, — 
Yea, felt her mercy like a flaming brand ; 
But mastered, like a man that walks in sleep. 
Followed her where she led me, through a 

land 
Unknown, — woeful, yet powerless to 
weep. 

IV 
Erelong, before us as we went, on high 

A mountain reared, o'erhanging like blind 

night 
Above our heads as swiftly we drew nigh. 
Howbeit, turning not to left or right. 



40 THE RANSOM 

We took our way straight upward, till my 

knees 
Knocked one against the other, and my 
sight 
Blurred; and her garment I was fain to 
seize, 
As might a child, fear-stricken and foot- 
sore 
Whereat she stooping lent my travail ease. 
Up that way steep as death the woman bore 
Me faint, until it seemed I heard the stars 
Sing, and the rivers of whirled planets roar. 
Around, like sentries in old Titan wars, 
Cloud unto cloud shouted a thunder-call, 
Challenging us, it seemed, who brake their 
bars. 



THE RANSOM 41 

At last, where cliffs rose upright like a wall, 
With level steps along a ledge between 
That rock-height and a chasm of sheer fall. 
We crept ; until as through a glass wiped 
clean. 
Purpling the dun depths like an amethyst. 
Glimmered a meadow. Song of birds un- 
seen 
Shrilled musical beneath us ; fleecy mist 
Veiled a soft billowing greensward; and 

the smell 
Rose up of flowers fragrantly sun-kissed. 
Concave and rounded like a scallop-shell, 
The meadow spread out from the moun- 
tain-side. 
Girt by a forest faintly visible 



42 THE RANSOM 

Through the prismatic mist. As a young bride 
The while, who in her yearning yet would 

shrink 
From the desired kiss, so stood my guide 

Still hesitant upon that arduous brink. 

V 

At last she spake. ''The Lord hath heard 
my vow : 
And unto us is given this fair land 
To find our peace together, I and thou,^' 
She said; and downward led me by the hand. 
And there we dwelt together. Often came 
Wild creatures from the wood, by His 
command 
Bringing their strength to serve us. Each by 
name 



TEE RANSOM 43 

She called ; but I, still lacking faith, in fear 
By night lay trembling, fenced about 
with flame. 

So, as it seemed, our days told off a year. 
And she sang with the days; and all her 

song 
Was of that Love, within whose radiant 
sphere 

She had been surely then but for my wrong. 
But I the while in slothfulness grew fat, — 
Yea, so soul-pampered in my sin, erelong 

All day, like some sleek parish almsman, sat 
Stolidly comfortable, and had dozed. 
Save in mine ears there ever like a gnat 

The voice of her singing of Christ still buzzed ; 
So that when on a day she yearningly 



44 THE RANSOM 

Held forth her babe, my heart more grimly 

closed. 
Haply He by this child shall chasten me, 
I thought; and sneered; ^^Thy boast was 

to remit 
The curse He graved upon my forehead : 

see. 
See, where it flames by thy hand deeper writ ! 
Unbid, thou took'st upon thee to atone 
For my lost soul : what hast thou done for 

it. 
But like a fetter on the bare bruised bone, 
Galled, till I loathe thee near. If thou 

must stay . . .'' 
''Yea, I must stay,'' she said; ''what 

then?" "Have done,'' 



THE RANSOM 45 

I cried, '^with hope; nor flatter — to be- 
tray— 
My pride. Thou yearn' st to heaven. Go 

then ! Thy wing 
Is folded ; but still open lies thy way. 
May one renounce a thing, yet have a 
thing?'' 
Then she: ^^ Curst art thou; yea, and I 

am curst : 
So be for thee and me one reckoning !" 
She moaned; and licked her lips as one in 
thirst. 

VI 
Both then, foregoing hope, abode together. 
But now nor beast nor bird came bringing 
food; 



46 THE RANSOM 

Earth, parched, crunched underfoot in the 
dead weather ; 
And the leaves crisped upon the sapless 
wood. 

Erelong our babe died; yet the woman, 
cold, 

Wept not ; but on my head I felt its blood. 
And with the hours it seemed that I grew 
old 

Suddenly. Hunger and forced toil off- 
scaled 

Sloth that had cased my spirit like a 
mold ; 
Mine eyes were opened, and I saw unveiled 

That which I was. Heart-sick and hunger- 
spent. 



THE RANSOM 47 

Close by her side, like a whipped hound, I 

quailed. 
Dimmed was her glory of strong faith, and 

rent 
Her robe of peace; yet she was witching 

fair — 
Half woman and half serpent subtly 

blent, — 
That all day lay her length in the warm air 
Luxurious, but by night, laughing with life, 
Danced moonwhite through her cloudiness 

of hair. 
Yea, and I came to fear my fell witch-wife : 
Ruthless was she if delving might not win 
For her some one sweet root; and rose 

there strife 



48 THE RANSOM 

Between us, I heard, as if at call of kin, 
Hissings of menace, — until I suppliant 

cringed. 
Yet as I watched her, beautiful in sin, 
Ofttimes my fear was with compassion tinged; 
For though, mocking, she laughed, her 

laughter shrilled 
Harsh like the grating of a soul unhinged. 
And ever more this voice of pity stilled 
Anger, and overcame rebellious pride ; 
Until love might have won me, had she 
willed. 
Erelong, once as I hunted food, sore tried 
To sate her luxury and my need, and 

scanned 
The lean earth, on a sudden I espied, 



THE RANSOM 49 

Shyly alone in all that desolate land, 
A flower dew-sprinkled and sweet blue. 

Amazed, 
I ran, and took the woman by the hand. 
And brought her, all reluctant, where it raised 
Its frail blue head, like hope, amid that 

waste. 
Awhile, biting her lip, she stood and gazed : 
Then on a sudden, flaming, me she faced. 
^' Know'st thou who set it there? ^' she said. 

'^Iknow,'^ 
I answered — ''yea, I know.'' ''So thou 
betray'st 
Me unto Him, whom thou hast made my 
foe!" 
She hissed ; and all around hissed menacing 



50 THE RANSOM 

Allies invisible. With head bent low, 
I faltered back : ''Perchance awakening 
It brings of hope." Then she: ''Thou 

runagate, 
May one renounce a thing, yet have a thing? 
Hope bad'st thou not renounce? I tell 
thee hate 
Here springeth for us twain." With naked 

heel 
She stamped the frail bloom out. "Too 
late! too late!" 
I heard her wail; then laugh, wild peal on 
peal. 

VII 
Then like a meadow-mist at dawn of light, 
She drifted, drifted off ; swiftly anon. 



THE RANSOM 51 

White-flickering along the mountain height, 

Lighter than winged seed the wind wafts on, 

Still floated upward; and when at last I 

reeled 
Drunkenly after her, was gone. — And 
gone 
With her the dream. Yet ofttimes when 
have pealed 
Bells tunelessly afar, or birds have screamed 
By night, I hear her laughter, see revealed 
That meadow where we dwelt; and I have 
dreamed 
That I go ever seeking, seeking still. 
The while hope whispers: ^^Are not they 
redeemed 
Who love ? Be patient, and thy task fulfil 



52 THE RANSOM 

Of slow atonement through the healing 

years : 
Ye shall find peace together in His will." 
— Alas ! I call and call, and she not hears. 



A TRUE-LOVE-KNOT 53 

A TRUE-LOVE-KNOT 

Meeting upon the midway stair, 

Said Mephistofeles to Peter, 
A parable, you man of prayer, 

I'll put you in short meter. 

* * * * 

There was a Liar loved a Lady ; 

She loved to her undoing ; 
Yet found her place in Heaven ready — 

After some years of ruing. 

Him we enrolled among our minions ; 

To her the blow was sharp : 
She simply drooped her golden pinions. 

And would not touch her harp. 



54 A TRUE-LOVE-KNOT 

Moved by such very constant love 

And Mary's mediation, 
Your Liege wrote, — Deliver him above, 

Admitted on probation. 

So like a bubble that man^s soul 

Upfloated, and received 
Its robes and wings and aureole ; 

Yet felt itself aggrieved. 

The flames of Hell were hot, it said ; 

I felt them keenly. Sire ; 
But hotter on this sinful head 

I feel her coals of fire. 

She puts me ever in the wrong, 
And hurts with each caress ; 



A TRUE-LOVE-KNOT 55 

Send me below, where I belong ; 
You damn me when you bless ! 

She overheard hrni, and she sighed : 

My way, O Lord, is plain. 
Hell is for me, since he^si denied. 

I go ; let him remain ! 

Your Good Lord frowned ; the Angels wept ; 

But the Lady had her way : 
Last night his Soul in Heaven slept ; 

Hers wakes in Hell to-day. 

;{: 4: H: * 4: 

When God brought Love and Sin together. 

Old man, he raised a breeze 
Must sometimes bring you stormy weather ! 

Quoth Mephistofeles. 



56 MISERERE, DO MINE! 

MISERERE, DOMINE! 

Unfathomable One, 
Maker of all things, breath 
Of all breath, spirit-spun 
Thread inwoven in birth and life and 
death, — 

Whence came for thee the mood 
To make ? What vision, seen by thee alone, 
Urged thee from solitude 
To an uneasy throne. 
Where sounds forever the sad monotone 
Of souls in worlds unnumbered, from the dust 
Crying for justice against thee, the Just ? 

Did darker thoughts harass. 
And drive thee to these noises, — 



MISERERE, DO MINE! 57 

Lulled, as on storms thy sea-bird, brooding, 

poises? ' 
Or hast thou mirrored thee, unveiled, in man, 
As for mere vanity 
A girl dotes on her image in a glass ; 
And so thy sorry plan 
Is but a shadow-show to flatter thee ? 

Or, restless evermore. 
Hast shaped this jarring scheme because thy 

peace 
Is not of strife surcease. 
But instant victory in constant war ? 
Or was thy making blind 
Wilfulness, which has brought. 
Life out of life, moved by no further thought ; 
Wherefore, unlit by mind. 



58 MISERERE, DO MINE! 

Thy world is groping out of nought to 
nought ? 
Master, what is thy will 

For us? Peace? Lovef Thou seest, Lord, 
our life : 

Does it thine ends fulfil ? 

— Yea, they have peace, the strong, the con- 
querors ; 

While whipped men nurse their sores. 

Yet though cowed rage awhile may sheathe 
the knife, 

Hate hides behind ; and strife 

But waits upon occasion, — till old scores 

Blood shall have blotted : leagued, the wolf- 
pack preys ; 

But should a leader limp or lag, it slays. 



MISERERE, DOMINE ! 59 

Thou seest blind love enmesh 
The wills of men : how in the baser crew 
Flesh hungers after flesh, 
And feeds ; hungers afresh, 
And dies ; and how the few 
Grasp at an iris-bow 
Of many-colored hopes that come — to go. 

Where is that love supreme 
In which souls meet, — where is it satisfied ? 
Unless the bridegroom conjure his pale bride 
From insubstantial dream ; 
Or, when a maid has died, 
Some brooding poet quicken vain desire 
With his own spirit's fire. 
And nursing in his soul the dear device. 
He make — and be — his own still paradise. 



60 MISERERE, DO MINE! 

Enisled on heaving sands 
Of lone desire, spirit to spirit cries ; 
While float across the skies 
Bright phantoms of fair lands 
Where fancies fade not, and where dreams 

abide. 
Then on a day the dear illusions lift : 
Sundered, upon a shoreless sea adrift, 
With eyes that yearn to eyes, 
Mute, with imploring hands. 
The twain go driven whither no land lies ; 
And whether side by side. 
Or swept apart by some swift passionate tide. 
Each in the bark of each 
Lies bound ; nor ever soul to soul shall reach. 

Time was indeed when some 



MISERERE, DO MINE! 61 

Gaunt, with averted eyes and voices dumb 

For all save thee, on rocky fastnesses. 

In woods, or by waste sands. 

Sought by self-scourging and bead-mumbled 

spell 
Guerdon of heaven : — ah, why in silences 
Fulfilled with thee, sighed they for vague 

dreamlands 
Of mystic asphodel, 

Who, long self -cloistered in disgust of men, 
Must greet on yonder multitudinous shore 
Those they but scorned before, 
Still in the spirit carnal — even as then ? 
Ancient of days, bemoanst thou the rent 

bars 
Of sleep ? — thine ere the inexplicable pang 



62 MISERERE, DO MINE! 

Stirred in their sockets thy fixed balls of 

sight, 
And thy lids loosened, and the vital light 
Flamed on the dust of uncompacted stars, 
Until these joined, and sang; 
And on the four winds rang 
The long thin shrill wild cry of a world's woe. 
Lord, with unshaken soul 
Shalt thou forever, hearing, will it so ? 
Not halt these spheres that roll 
Infect? Not with submissive knowledge 

own 
Good was for thee alone ? 
Not then, withdrawing thee in thee, atone? 



THE DAISY-FIELD 63 

THE DAISY-FIELD 

Man looked upon the sky by night, 
And loved its tender azure, bright 
With many a softly beaming hght ; 
And sang his Maker's praises. 

"The sun declares Thee in Thy dread ; 

But from the stars Thy peace is shed : 

Would that by day they comforted !" 

God heard ; and made the daisies. 

All in a firmament of green 
Their golden orbs now float, serene, 
Twinkling with rays of silvery sheen. 
To comfort him who gazes. 



64 TRUCE OF GOD 

TRUCE OF GOD 

THE SON 

Father ! Father ! Forsakest thou me ? 

THE FATHER 

I brood 
New worlds. Do thou for respite in long 

war 
Gather about thee lovingly the good ; 
Ease them ; yet suffer not the warrior 
In sloth to grow unready. 

THE SON 

As God wills. 
But shall there then be peace in Heaven no 
more 
Than one hushed day ? Are there immortal 
ills 



TRUCE OF GOD 65 

To come ? my father, is this the faith ? 
Another peace proclaimed I from the hills 
To men in Galilee, — life after death 

In love forever. Must then, behind these 

walls 
Besieged, man ever draw uneasy breath? 

THE FATHER 

Look where the shadow of my finger falls 
On the far earth : what seest thou there ? 

THE SON 

I see 

A flood shaken by the winds; yea, and 

cloud calls 
To cloud in anger; and the tusked waves 

flee, 
Trumpeting, in stray herds. 

E 



66 TRUCE OF GOD 

THE FATHER 

Is no live thing 
Mingled with the elements ? 

THE SON 

How might there be, 
And be alive ? 

THE FATHER 

Yet look. 

THE SON 

On level wing, 
Calm as a cloud in summer skies at even, 
On the storm's turbulent bosom slumber- 
ing, 
Hovers a pensive bird. 

THE FATHER 

The peace of Heaven 



TRUCE OF GOD 67 

So pillowed is on strife ; and God broods so, 
Impassionate, above where, tempest- 
driven, 
The shoreless tides of Being ebb and flow, 
Timing his world's recurrent working-day 
Ever in larger rhythms. Where no winds 
blow. 
Yon seabird is not seen : what might upstay 
Those poised pinions, if gales slept? 

son, 
If evil slumbered, and sin died away. 
How might man's soul, soaring, be wafted on 
To higher things? How might not God, 

ungirt 
With strength resistant, be himself undone. 
And he and thou and all life else revert 



68 TRUCE OF GOD 

To nothing, all having been in vain ? For 

sloth 
Is nothingness, and only sloth. Inert 
Were Heaven without HelFs neighborhood; 
and both, 
So either once admitted full defeat, 
Futile. Enough : be thou no longer loath. 
Hise, take thy place upon the Judgment-seat. 
I go unto my rest. Farewell ! 

THE SON 

Farewell, 
My father I 

THE FATHER 

Send now Angels forth to greet 
Men, saying: ^^Come! ye are called in 
Heaven and Hell.'' 



NEW LIFE 69 

NEW LIFE 
If One, flame-garmented, 
Came unto you, and said : 
"Why crave to live, being dead?" 

Would you not answer ? — '' Still 
Mine old task to fulfil, 
But with a better will ; 

Asking not wages won. 
But for the little begun 
Time that it may be done, — 

Time, and the heart to bask 

Warm at a human task.'' 

— Friend, is there more to ask ? 



70 LILITH AND CAIN 

LILITH AND CAIN 

Up from the cave of her despair 

To Eden Lilith came by night, 

And danced before young Cain, moon-white 
Under her cloudiness of hair ; 
For she had found him entrance there 

By subtlety for her delight. 

And suddenly over him she bent. 

Her breathing seemed a serpent's hiss, 
And like a serpent's sting her kiss ; 

Her hair was all a ravishment 

Of amber light and poppy scent. 
Bathing him in sunshiny bliss. 

It glimmered like the afterglow 

Of summer suns on rippling streams ; 



LILITH AND CAIN 71 

Until he sighed, as one who dreams : 
'^LiUth, Lilith, I love thee so !'' 
And she made answer, soft and low ; 

And her white lids veiled her eyes' red 
gleams. 

'^O Cain, I was thy father's wife 
Long ere this waxen woman Eve. 
Yea, and because of me they grieve, 

For that with God I taught them strife. 

She lives now in thy brother's life. 

Thou lov'st me ? Slay, — and I beheve." 

Now thrice three nights from her lone lair 
Must Lilith the blind Moon entreat. 
Cursing the God who gives defeat. 

And the woman Eve, and the sons she bare ; 



72 LILITH AND CAIN 

Ere the touch of a hand is on LiHth's hair, 
And the sting of burning hps on her feet, 

^^0 Cain, I have waited long,'' she said. 

^^Yea, love, I know," he answered 
'^ Death 

I wait ; and long he tarrieth ! 
My mother weeps my brother dead." 
Then seeing how his hand dripped red, 

Fell Lilith laughed under her breath. 

^^In sin and death is Eve's seed sown ; 
Overthrown is she that me outthrust," 
Sneered Lilith. ^^Lo, her God is just V 

Then Cain fled like a leaf wind-blown ; 

Gone was Lilith ; but writhing prone, 
A serpent hissed there in the dust. 



LI LIT H: MOTHER OF SIN 73 

LILITH: MOTHER OF SIN 

{Adams erste Frau. 
Nimm dich in acht vor ihrem schonen Haaren, 
Vor diesem Schmuck, mit dem sie einzig prangt. 

— Goethe.) 

Slowly she uncoiled herself. ''Walks God 

here ? Long 
He hath sat tossing from hand to hand the 

spheres, 
Tireless. Is it ended? May we now have 

rest?'' 
She yearned towards Him; but between, 

words formed, 
Forbidding her : ''Unclean Desire of Me 
Before Light was, answer thou ! Where is 

Man? 



74 LILITH: MOTHER OF SIN 

Where is the Woman ? Witch, thou hast hid 

them, — where ? '' 
^^ Witch ! I ? '^ she hissed. ''Nay, what then 

He who gat 
Me? Was the Man not mine, — Thy 

breathing fleshed 
For me, because I lusted Thy flesh? . . . 

Worm ! 
When from his pithless prude^s embrace I 

swelled. 
And bare him serpents, he fled, shaming me. 
Him favoring yet unjustly, gavest Woman, 
Fashioned to his nicer appetite a frail 
Fair doll. I was forgot : whilst they two 

toyed 
Openly in my face, secure in Thee. 



LILITH: MOTHER OF SIN 75 

(And thought' st — when I sat gnawing these 

torn wisps, 
Once Thy Hps' lure ! — I brooded but as 

beasts 
Which chew the cud ?) They fed their play, 

and slept, 
Surfeited. Then I tempted ; and she bent 
Down to my smooth cleft tongue her ear — 

the fool ! 
Thou angered, — but against me impotent. 
Them punished'st. And I laughed. Because 

of me, 
Went they from Eden out into the swart 
Starved land. Yet not enough curst were 

they: still 
By his warm side she walked, — the comforter. 



76 LILITH: MOTHER OF SIN 

Though their eyes lowered, cloudy with blind 

tears, 
Mine, which looked inward to their love- 
light, scorched. 
Her mouth drooped, pallid as a young moon 

born 
Of winter ; but when his in the dim even 
Shadowed it once, and passed, hers smiled : 

and I . . . 
I grinned, — as wounded wolf baited by curs. 
In meet time from the Woman's side was 

pressed 
The man-child, Cain. I sat down by him, yet 
A mere green boy, raining across his lips 
All my hair's harlotry. The savor of it 
He tasted willingly : sweet in the mouth 



LILITH: MOTHER OF SIN 77 

It was ; but in his belly a close fire. 

So he burnt mad, and, when I tempted Abel, 

Slew him, and next himself. But when chaste 

Abel 
Had shuddered from me as from a thing to 

loathe. 
Startled, I leaned me by a still pool, there 
To prove my beauty safe. And there I saw 
The semblance of this fated Tree, their bane ; 
But all its fair was foul : grey scabby moss 
Mouldered upon the shrunken limbs ; within 
The rotting, exposed heart were things that 

writhed, 
Intolerable. Yet I looked, and saw 
What had been Lihth ; and I sickened . . . I ! 
Though I cast in defilement to those depths, 



78 LILITH: MOTHER OF SIN 

And overlaid that mirror with dead slime, 
Still shuddered there my livid horror. Mad, 
Then in the Tree I hid me, where I knew 
Not Thou dared^st pry. Till for me, brooding 

long 
On vengeance against them and Thee, their 

shield, 
Thoughts shaped them of the Woman's 

woman-seed : 
How I might come, hag-riding on the winds 
By night, and lay me prone along girl-babes. 
And lap their delicate loins, until these 

waxed 
Poisonous, fruitful of me ; how upon 
The lips of sleeping virgins I might breathe 
That flame whereof I am consumed, till they 



LILITH: MOTHER OF SIN 79 

Awoke, like harlots laughing; how privily, 
In the quick ears of wives overmuch alone, 
Might whisper from behind, till they forgot 
All for a stranger's bed ! . . . So planned ; 

so acted. 
No woman's garment ever was so white. 
But I spat out my venom on it. The steps 
Of the least daughter of this Woman Eve 
Have I misguided : because of my false lights, 
Nor she, nor any that shall trust her, find 
Again this Eden of still peace. They hide 
Their sin from Thee, O Jahveh, cravenly, — 
I know not where : I am indifferent 
To such as serve me ; and the rest I shun." 
— She ceased ; and writhed back into the 

hollow Tree. 



80 HARMONICS 



HARMONICS 

Oh, sing to me, but not with words 

I may not know from lies. 
Sing to me only as the birds 

When winter dies. 

For all the love thy true heart owns 

Mine to soft echo wins 
As flutes attuned wake answering tones 

In vioUns. 



AFTER POLIZIANO 81 

AFTER POLIZIANO 

La hrunettina mia 
My little nut-brown maiden 
Where the clear spring plashes 
Her face each morning washes, 
And tranquil breast. 

Modestly she is drest 
All in a kirtle snowy; 
Paints, powders, trinkets showy 
She despises. 

She wears no strange disguises : 
Ruffs, furbelows, pelisses, 
Like your highborn misses, 
All airs and graces. 



82 AFTER POLIZIANO 

A garland of bright daisies 
Set on her golden head, 
She goes gay-spirited, 
Lissome and chaste. 

Often she trips in haste 
Away, — not that she flees me, ' 
But only to tease me ; 

Then comes back dancing. 

Ah me, she is entrancing, 
My little gentle maiden, 
A flower-o'-the-thorn, dew-laden 
On a sweet Mayday. 

Joy is for him in its heyday 
Who, not despairing, pursues her ; 



AFTER POLIZIANO 83 

Blessed the mortal that woos her 
Adorable dimples ! 

Mischief ripples and wimples 
Along her lips so merry, 
Each like a ripe strawberry 
Or ruby precious. 

And oh, her voice delicious 
Might tear a stone asunder ; 
I say, though you may wonder, 
What I've a right to. 

This hemisphere she gives light to, 
My little dark-eyed beauty ; 
And 'tis her mouth's sweet duty 
To rain honey. 



84 AFTER POLIZIANO 

Wise and true as bonny, 
She's never pouting or pining ; 
She's just a wee bit designing - 
For harmless pleasures. 

But to exhaust her treasures 
Nor power nor art is given ; 
Only, her love I will live in 
Until I die. 



LAND OF DESIRE LAID DESOLATE 85 

''FOR THEY LAID THE LAND OF 
DESIRE DESOLATE" 

The love of woman is a lure to sin, 
Man said; and woman, hearing, straight 

denied 
Love; and with scourgings branded her 
white skin ; 
And where no man might claim her for his 
bride 
She made her home, — yea, hiding her 

apart 
Where no man saw her save the Crucified. 
Till on a day man, hungering in his heart, 
Came unto where she was, and knelt to 
her. 



86 LAND OF DESIRE LAID DESOLATE 

Thou art the worthier; make me as thou art, 
He said. And she : Love maketh worthier 
All them who serve his Lord. At the man^s 

side 
She girt the sword, and on his heel the spur. 
And he pricked forth, the armed knight, and 
vied 
In battle for Love's Lord;- then claimed 

Love's spoil ; 
And the kiss perilous was not denied. 
The kiss of woman is the serpenfs coil, 
The man said, having had his will of lust. 
She tempted: let the shame on her recoil! 
And woman bore the shame : unto the dust 
She bowed her head; she laid her hands 
below 



LAND OF DESIRE LAID DESOLATE 87 

Her husband's foot ; she shared his bond- 
slave's crust ; 
Until he at that apathy of woe 

Again before her humbled him, ashamed. 
Thou art the wiser : teach me how to know. 
He thus ; and in her eyes a strange hope flamed. 
She said : Lust hlindeth : slay that beast 

which aye, 
Overmastering thee, leaveth thy spirit maimed. 
So man, self -tamed, all a summer's day 
Sat mute beside the woman, passion-calm, 
The while she, wistful, spelled the hours 
away 
With subtle talk and tale and soft-sung psalm 
To dove-white love; nor guessed his 
fevered sense 



88 LAND OF DESIRE LAID DESOLATE 

Flamed but the fiercer under her sweet 
balm — 
Till even; when, long hushed in dark sus- 
pense, 

Heaven at last in harsh, slow thunder burst 

On woman wailing for her innocence.' 
The wit of woman is a spell accurst, 

Man said; and she, all tearlessly, turned 
down 

The cup of knowledge, and rebuked her 
thirst ; 
And went, a child clothed in the matron^s 
gown, 

Clasping her lord's cold hand, weeping 
when chid. 

Or lightly lying to escape his frown y 



LAND OF DESIRE LAID DESOLATE 89 

And all her wisdom was to do as bid. 
Wherefore, when to her meek simplicity, 
A stranger glozed with lies the Fruit For- 
bid, 
Calling lust love, and virtue cruelty, 

Guileless she listened, erelong sinless sinned, 
Still wailed her lover gone his ways, care- 
free. 
Who trusteth woman, soweth on the wind. 
The husband said ; and while she cried for 

death. 
Life to her breast the Scarlet Letter pinned. 
For her babe's sake she lived, although man's 
breath 
Hissed at her where she shrank apart, 
soul-faint 



90 LAND OF DESIRE LAID DESOLATE 

From the sharp cross she faltered on 
beneath; 
Till the man chafed that so without complaint 
She made atonement before God. He 

sneered : 
How is it thou the sinner, seem^st the saint? 
And she was dumb; yet there was that he 
feared 
Of heaven in her face ; and this fear stayed 
The blow which else his own blind soul 
had seared. 
When from his mind it was as if a shade 
Passed suddenly away, and all seemed 

plain. 
His gaze grew gentle, and hers unafraid. 
Fool have I been, he said ; yet thy will vain : 



LAND OF DESIRE LAID DESOLATE 91 

Idol or doll have made thee; as thy lord, 
Now have I forged, now, slave, have felt, thy 
chain. 
Even as the beast in me thou hast abhorred 
And starved, or siren-like appeased. Hence 

strife 
Hath been betwixt us, — though with ghosts 
we warred. 
Now let us stand up equals, man and wife. 
Neither obeisance making save to truth, 
And live shamefast, yet not ashamed of life. 
He ended ; but with melancholy ruth 

The woman smiled. Yea, be betwixt us 

truce. 
She said, I saw thy vision in my youth; 
But see the beast in thee that breaketh loose 



92 LAND OF DESIRE LAID DESOLATE 

Ever, — and ever shall; and see — oh, 

frail! — 
My heart still wooing that death-sweet abuse. 
Wearily she spake; but at her babe's faint 
wail, 
Leaning unto the downcast m?n, she said : 
To question what shall he, what doth avail? 
Hark, our habe hungers ! Work ! that we have 
bread. 



MICHELANGELO 93 

MICHELANGELO 

Gli occhi miei vaghi delle cose belle 
Mine eyes desirous of all fairest things, 
And even so my soul of her reward, 
In having these adored, 
Gain their one virtue that to heaven wings. 
From the high stars there springs 
A splendor, hither flowing. 
Which thither desire brings. 
And men call Love, unknowing. 
Nor Cometh Love, all-glowing. 
Into the gentle heart, save from a face 
Within whose eyes those stars have left 
their trace. 



94 MICHELANGELO 

MICHELANGELO 

Per qual mordace lima 
By what corroding file 

Are thy worn trappings fretted still and frayed, 
Invalid soul ? When shalt thou, by time's aid. 
Break free? — to wing again where thou 

above 
Wast pure and glad erstwhile. 

S^ Sp *P 3^ ^ 

I hide not from thee, Love, 

Even that I have envy of the dead. 

Lord, in mine hour of dread. 

Reach unto me Thy merciful arms ; oh, take 

Me from myself, and one to please Thee make! 



AT THE LAST JUDGMENT 95 

AT THE" LAST JUDGMENT 

(The Wandering Jew speaks: — ) 

I may repent me yet, and live? How kind 

Is then this Christ ! How cunning is this 

God! 
How He hath trained His puppets to believe 
The strings they dangle from their own ac- 
cord ; 
Aye, so to love bondage that threat of free- 
dom — 
Which they call death — sufficient is to bring 
The bravest of them to his shaking knees ! 
But in His eager vengeance hath this God 
In me o'erreached Himself : what makes 
their hfe 



96 AT THE LAST JUDGMENT 

Dear unto men — that they may lose it when 
They know not, the sad sweet uncertainty 
Which gilds with golden possibilities 
Their leaden outlook, — that He lifted from 
My life : I knew that I should never die. 
Felt ye what pity is, ye who still prate 
Ever of pity, ye should weep to hear 
Those words, — / knew that I should never die! 
And yet the Torturer was not satisfied. 
Unwilling, whilst Earth lasted, unto hfe 
Was I bound hand and foot. Jerusalem 
Fell ; from her ruins I escaped, alone 
Unbruised. Rome the giantess fell ; I stood 
Beneath the falling statue ; it fell, and crushed 
Me not. I plucked the beard of Attila, 
Hater of men ; but he smiled on me, and 



AT THE LAST JUDGMENT 97 

I lived. Fool ! I have rent me, thinking so 
Life must be startled from me. I have leapt 
Into the flaming womb of iEtna ; where 
I with the Giants roared ten months, until 
The laboring monster gave me birth again, 
Curled to a seething ember, yet — alive. 
I have cohabited with poisonous toads 
And snakes deadly to all save me ; they stung, 
And the sting rankled, but destroyed me not. 
I took a leprous woman to my bed ; 
She died ; and the ten sons she bore me died. 
Lepers ; and still I lived, and men forsook 
Me not, although my shadow was the Curse. 
And yet the Torturer was not satisfied. 
For now He says, I may repent me yet, 
And live ! And says, that God is pitiful ; 

G 



98 AT THE LAST JUDGMENT 

But even so saying, lies. If God, He is 
Without pity ; if pitiful, He is 
No God. Pity is sorrow born of sorrow ; 
Weakness consoling weakness ; the sad sense 
Of woes conjointly to be borne. — To live, 
And in His Heaven ? Aye, if I repent ! 
But I have had my fill of life. Besides, 
I live; I am immortal as Himself; 
Haply — who knows ? — He mortal as I am. 
Like the stark Indian cobra, to and fro, 
Sleepily beating out His rhythm of days, 
His arm sways now — what if it pause, or 

strike 
At His own life? That were a boon might 

bribe 
Submission ! Nothing else avails, O Christ. 



THE BALM OF PEACE 99 

THE BALM OF PEACE 
*'Let us have peace!" we clamor, man to 

man, 
Mistaking in our weakness, Lord, Thy plan. 
Nature, reveaUng Thee, does not abhor 
Atom with atom continually at war : 
Her law is one for all — Survive who can. 

We journey, each of us a caravan 
Of selves that, like a lawless gypsy clan, 
Brawling and wrangling still, will never- 
more 

Let us have peace. 

And all thy world's an army, in whose van 
There rides beside thee Life the conqueror ; 



100 THE BALM OF PEACE 

Only far in the rear, grim guardian 

Of them that are soul-wounded and heart- 
sore, 
Death will respond when bloodless lips 
implore — 

''Let us have peace !" 



SPRING 101 

SPRING 

{After Heine) 

Brightly the ripples glimmer and gleam — 

Loving's so lovely in spring. 
The shepherdess sits beside the stream 

Sweet flowers garlanding. 

They blossom and burgeon in odorous bliss — 

Loving's so lovely in spring. 
From her deep, deep heart sighs the shep- 
erdess, 

'^For whom is my garlanding?" 

A cavalier rides along the stream ; 
He greets her so gallantly bred. 



102 SPRING 

The shepherdess follows with eyes that 
dream ; 
Far flutters the plume on his head. 

Into the tide, all tearful, mute, 

She drops her posy-ring. 
Of love and kisses the nightingales flute — 

Loving's so lovely in spring. 



DEMOS TRIUMPHANT 103 

DEMOS TRIUMPHANT 

Prospero touched the Ups of CaHban ; 

And to speech, calUng, answered timid 

thought, 
Which made the loutish fingers deft, and 

taught 
The fierce heart patience. Shrewd the 

master's plan ; 
But on a day was hfted the long ban 
Of fear, — when the wand, broken, no spell 

wrought, 
And Ariel vanished. Then the master sought 
Where he had left a slave, and found a 

man. 
And Prospero was afraid, expecting death 



104 DEMOS TRIUMPHANT 

From one he thought mad with remembered 

wrong ; 
And cursed his broken wand and vagrant elf. 
But Cahban said gently : '^Of thy breath 
Was born the spirit which has made me 

strong. 
Caliban spares thee lest he shame himself." 



SEVEN SANDWICHMEN ON BROADWAY 105 

SEVEN SANDWICHMEN ON 

BROADWAY 

Shuffling and shambling, woebegone, they 

pass, 
Seven in single file, and seven as one, — 
As if a spectrum of all woe the sun 
Here cast through some bewitched prismatic 

glass. 
From their stooped shoulders, back ard fore, 

hang crass 
High-colored chromos of a stage mignonne 
In tights, astride a grinning simpleton 
Squat on all fours, and long-eared like an ass. 
^'Success I ^^ ^' Success!'^ we read — yea, 

thy success 



106 SEVEN SANDWICHMEN ON BROADWAY 

We read, O wanton among cities : vice 
Saddled on folly, woe beneath sevenfold : 
Woe of the lust of Hfe, and the shameful price 
Of life, — woe of the want, the weariness, — 
Of fear, of hate, — of the thrice false weights 
of gold ! 



THE GLORY THAT WAS SPAIN 107 

THE GLORY THAT WAS SPAIN 

I stood above Granada, on a height 
Between Alhambra, goldenly aglow, 
And the sad hill Albaicin, where woe 
And squalor cower in noisome caves by- 
night. 
Far down, the Darro, in its path of light, 
Glimmered toward day now swiftly dipping 

low. 
Yet kissing with last, lingering rays the snow 
On tall Sierras, till all the East was bright. 
Brighter wast thou, O Spain, at thy white 

dawn. 
When thou stoodst firm, strong bulwark of 
Christ's folk; 



108 THE GLORY THAT WAS SPAIN 

Ere from thy face the Christ-hght was with- 
drawn, 

And on thy neck was laid the bigot's yoke. 

Now between gilded show and knaves that 
fawn, 

Thou sitt'st at dusk, proud in thy beggar's 
cloak. 



ON ''FIRST AND LAST THINGS" 109 

ON ^^ FIRST AND LAST THINGS'' 

TO H. G. WELLS 

You, a philosopher and famous, choose, 
You put it, to beheve that death ends all ; 
Save that the Species (with a capital) 
Goes marching on in Brobdingnagian shoes. 
Elate, along skull-paved, broad avenues 
Unto some foreordained Valhalla hall, 
Where girls are ^^fair and most divinely tall," 
And god-like boys hold altruistic views : 
And then f — But let that pass. Suppose, 

for you, 
Famous and a philosopher, to live, 
Once life has given the best life has to give. 
Were irksome ; yet for us that never knew 



110 ON "FIRST AND LAST THINGS" 

Fame, us whose fair dreams never can come 

true, 
Who failed, or fell, — what cheer ? What 

palliative ? 

We ask, indeed, not any palliative 

For truth; but when you blandly urge the 

view 
Which leaves us comfortless, and will it true, 
And praise it, that we cannot all forgive, — 
We who have somehow missed our chance 

to live ! 
We would not whimper to the winds, or chew 
The lotus of illusion ; we, as you. 
Would sift all things, though hope slip through 

the sieve : 



ON ''FIRST AND LAST THINGS'' HI 

And if we are worm-bitten leaves that fall — 
We others — by our rotting to infuse 
Into next season's foliage fairer hues, 
Profuser sap, — so be it : death ends all ! 
But shall the cankered, bruised leaf, grateful, 

call 
Life good, or that which made it live excuse ? 



112 A HOLY AND HUMBLE MAN OF HEART 

''A HOLY AND HUMBLE MAN OF 
HEART" 

GEORGE RICE CARPENTER 

He was a brother to his friends, a friend 
To all in need. He gave himself, as kings 
Strew gold, in little daily helpful things. 
Ungrudging, while there yet was life to spend. 
Humble of heart and holy to the end 
He lived ; for in his soul were Pisgah springs 
Whereon God's shadow fell, and beckonings 
Of hopes which our mortality transcend. 
Hardly we reached to that shy soul of his. 
So like the tall Alps which he loved, aloof 
Like them in quietness, high over earth. 
Yet without scorn he met life as it is. 
In service putting his high soul to proof, 
Womanly gentle, lit by cleanly mirth. 



TO A POET OF PARADOX 113 

TO A POET OF PARADOX 

TO G. S. 

Dolorous by nature, jovial by choice, 
You dance, it seems, under the shade of yews, 
Drinking to Lethe, while your nun-like Muse 
Austerely sings of Phryne and of Loys ; 
And from your verses speaks a dubious voice. 
Which gives both consolation and "the 

blues,^' 
Crying to men that starve for hope — Refuse! 
Commanding men that half despair — Re- 
joice! 
Refuse J — for only they that covet, want ; 
Rejoice, — how futile are the thoughts which 
haunt 



114 TO A POET OF PARADOX 

A mother at her first-born's passing-bell ! 
Renounce, — envy it is that leaves life gaunt. 
— Yet I am weak ; or else you sing too well : 
For envy's born when your verse sounds its 
knell. 



THE CHILDREN'S HOUR 115 

THE CHILDREN'S HOUR 

As we staid elders at the children's hour 
Give out some riddle stale long, long ago, 
And hsten amused, as down the eager row 
In turn each tries his (Edipean power ; 
So sit the indulgent Gods ; before them our 
Most sapient masters of all those who know. 
Just now one Nietzsche guesses. La Roche- 
foucauld 
Applauds ; and Voltaire nudges Schopenhauer. 
Again the Delphian drawls his question : ages 
To ages echo each response ; and men 
Painfully harken. Meanwhile old Vulcan nods ; 
The Cyprian plays Minerva, souls for gages ; 
Jove kisses Psyche ; Cupid pouts — and then 
Peals the low belling laughter of the Gods. 



116 HOMO SUM 

HOMO SUM 
Unto a dying man there entered three. 

''Turn thou to Allah : Allah gives delight 

In dreams of beauty through a dawnless 

night/' 
Thus one. The second: ''Everlastingly 
To woe art thou reborn, that will'st to be : 
Swoon thou in Buddha, putting out thy light." 
He ceased. The third: " Love is His gracious 

might 
Whose Word am I : blessed who heareth me!'' 
Yet clave that spirit to its earthen shell, 
Those three thus answering : "Delight nor rest 
Nor the still contemplation of the blest 
I crave, who dream no heaven, dread no hell ; 
I am a man, to a man's tasks addressed : 
Give me a new task, masters, — a new zest." 



THE BEATITUDE OF DANTE 117 

THE BEATITUDE OF DANTE 

''Si che m'hafatto per moW anni macro ^^ 
Dante, not supine in ecstatic swoon 
Held'st thou communion with the Love 

which moves 
The sun and other stars : not so behooves 
Man to abjure his manhood. Late and 

soon 
Thy gentle heart besought as for a boon 
Service; beheved he serves God best who 

loves 
Life, — who, still holding fast the good, yet 

proves 
All things, — and else were recreant and 

poltroon. 



118 THE BEATITUDE OF DANTE 

Unto this end sweet Lucy made her prayer ; 
Gentle Matilda washed thy spirit clean ; 
Pure Beatrice led up the mystic stair — 
That thou might' st know where lies man's 

true demesne ; 
Which is not yet where angels have no care, 
But in such loving toil as left thee lean. 



EDEN BOWER 119 

EDEN BOWER 

Idol and doll he has made her; he has 

bowed 
His neck before her, petted her, — and 

shamed. 
Spreading his nets of passion, he has tamed 
Her singing spirit, love-lured from the cloud ; 
Till she has walked beside him, humbly- 
proud 
To be his shadow while the world acclaimed, 
His cheering sunshine if the world defamed, 
Her own life-hunger meekly disavowed. 
Under love's spell she feels herself how frail, 
Her heart how wooing love's death-sweet 
abuse — 



120 EDEN BOWER 

The fair false glamour, and the old, old tale 
Of tears ; yet if, heart-weary, crying a truce 
With love, she rends the sacred bridal veil, 
Love smiles, — and bends her to his wonted 
use. 



CHILDREN SLAIN TO THE IDOLS 121 

"WHEN THEY HAD SLAIN THEIR 
CHILDREN TO THEIR IDOLS" 

She seems embodiment of fairest dreams — 
Of Brunhild's majesty and Dian's grace ; 
She might have been a Msenad once in Thrace, 
Or walked with Sappho through still 

Academes. 
Reflected in her brooding eyes are gleams 
From brighter worlds than roll in star-lit 

space ; 
Maid Mary's meekness glorifies her face ; 
Him whom she smiles upon, her smile re- 
deems. 
Friend, sister, daughter, wife — no claim of 
kin 



122 CHILDREN SLAIN TO THE IDOLS 

Or call of kind has found her deaf or loath : 
With purest love she has kept perfect troth. 
Yet soiled is all this temple with one sin : 
Medea slew her children, being wroth ; 
This woman, calmly, hers that might have 
been. 



THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 123 

THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 

(a ^'meredithyrambic'O 

I 

(Prologue) 
A simple lout came on a frozen snake 
Abandoned by its kind, — deaf, stiff, stone- 
cold. 
Awhile he stared; then pitied; then, grown 

bold, 
Fetched home the creature dangling from his 

rake; 
And left it thawing — for sweet charity's 

sake. 
Now by and by (dear God ! the tale is old) 
By warmth and false security cajoled, 



124 THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 

The lout nodded, — just as it thawed awake. 
Starved the poor serpent was from all that 

fasting : 
And when the rustic's wife, young, tempting, 

sweet. 
Stood on the hearthstone toasting her white 

feet, 
How could one blame His Snakeship for just 

tasting ? 
— Sure, it had been ungracious to be wasting 
Such evident hospitality and — sweet meat ! 

II 

(Tertium Quid) 
To speak to her, to breathe one word of this, 
So to uplift for them the veil which yet — 



THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 125 
Perhaps — masks the mute yearning, the 

regret 
I read forever in their eyes that kiss ; 
To tell her to her face she does amiss ; 
Babble of duty ; bid her heart forget 
That it beats love — oh, so were to abet 
Propensity's self, to lean o'er the abyss ! 
Then, must I hold my peace while they two 

drift 
Farther and farther on that passionate tide ? 
Not clutch her hand before the surge runs 

swift? 
— Blindfold, this way and that my thoughts 

go wide ; 
I stand, shaken between this doubt, that shift ; 
Yet still dissemble, tutored so by pride. 



126 THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 

III 

(Indulgences) 
She grows solicitous in my behalf : 
Smiles; speaks caressingly; consults mine 

ease; 
Protests she loves me ; studies how to please ; 
Angles with kisses for a fugitive laugh ; 
Daily, to feed me kills the fatted calf, — 
Herself the Prodigal ! So to appease 
Possible jealousy, of her drained love's lees 
Pours these libations, wherein I should quaff 
Contentment ! — Madam, you play a foolish 

part : 
For 'tis a practice most idolatrous. 
Faith wanting, by good works to seek salva- 
tion. 



THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 127 

Come, act the Luther to your Papist heart : 
Burn its Indulgences, — such reformation 
Alone might win our Eden back to us. 

IV 

(Pique) 
Light friends have rallied her. I heard their 

jest, 
Stupid enough, God knows ! yet pointed 

too, — 
If to have pierced my shell of vanity through 
To the live, bleeding quick, be any test. 
She gave no sign: a stranger might have 

guessed 
Her the unkindly used one of us two. 
I bit my lip ; frowned ; without more ado 



128 THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 

Turned on my heel; so left them, self-con- 
fessed, 

I, of the heinous fault of being absurd. 

Their laughter rippled after us ; she talked, 

Gravely, of this and that ; I, not a word. 

Ridiculous in dignity I stalked, 

Cranehke, ahead. By and by chanced our 
Third : 

He and she paired, of course; behind, I 
walked. 

V 
(A Trick in " Hearts ") 

Why must they look on one another so ? 

As if their eye-beams twisted were, and came 

Reluctantly apart, when some vague shame — 



THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 129 

Haply at my felt frown — drooped her lids 

low. 
Meanwhile the cards, shrewd dealt, plead 

^'Yes^'and'^No'^ 
Her lips set with the rigor of the game ; 
She loses ; but her eyes make piteous claim 
To sweet condolence from their smiling foe. 
My turn's to play ; and lest my pique shine 

through, 
I play, aye, play my appointed part — his 

foil. 
I lose, of course, — must I not take my cue ? 
She, kind, commiserates my futile toil : 
''Indeed, 'twas no fair match,'' she coos: 

''we two 
For him, dear, are, it seems, too easy spoil !" 



130 THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 

VI 

(Wedding Bells) 

Care on the anvils of my stunned sore brain 

Has plied his busy hammers all night long. 

His journeyman-imps, black-aproned fancies, 
throng 

The smithy ; and they pound to a refrain : 

You her, her he, she him — all love in vain ! 

They you, you them, they one, you two — 
thus wrong ! 

Hush then — a bell ! Your passing-bell — 
ding-dong ! 

Ding-a-ding, dong ! — Nay, 'tis a merry 
strain ! 

Seven months and seven you lie there under- 
ground ; 



THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 131 

Seven months and seven love has foregone his 

will. 
Ding-dong, ding-dong! To church! To 

church ! They sound. 
Pine not ! Repine not ! Peace, poor ghost, 

lie still! 
Cannot you see from under your green mound 
How bhthe she steps, white-veiled, across 

God's sill? 

VII 

(Spleen) 

Nel mezzo del cammin — yes, there I stand, 
God help me ! half inclining to halt there. 
Gone are the most who one time seemed to 
share 



132 THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 

The perils which beset men in this land. 

I let them go ; I never raised my hand 

To stay them; proud, I would not seem to 

care. 
Yet not from friendships lost now springs 

despair ; 
It is a friend new-found has me unmanned. 
Alien is she whose love was my new-birth ; 
Who walks beside me with averted face, 
Seeing in him all that she holds of worth. 
— Were 't not redemption then to yield my 

place 
Unto my friend ? I but encumber earth ; 
He breasts the panting leaders in life's race. 



THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 133 

VIII 

(Heroics) 
Perchance to yield her up, and yet not die, 
And yet not so much hve, as hve a dream, 
Where all that never can be yet might seem 
Forever : where forever she and I 
Might walk together as in days gone by ; 
Or, sitting pensive in the ember-gleam, 
I yet might feel her touch, her breathing steam 
My cheek, and hear her low sweet lullaby : 
To feature forth this vision in a tale 
Perchance, tender and soft spoken and so sad 
That reading it one day, she might grow pale, 
And half forget one moment to be glad. 
— Ah, so to lose were partway to prevail ; 
Unless, maybe, men losing so — go mad ! 



134 THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 

IX 

(Epilogue) 
After a while the lout aforesaid wakened ; 
The fragrant smell of tea assailed his nose. 
Still there before the fire, toasting her toes, 
Stood his goodwife ; his hearth the snake still 

blackened, 
As stiff as if no friendly heat had slackened 
Its frozen joints. Determined to expose 
Dissembling treachery, the rustic rose 
And poked the poisonous creature with his 

rake-end. 
It stirred not ; yet he cudgelled but the more. 
Till from it many a glittering scale was 

sloughed, 
And out of it there dribbled on the floor 



THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 135 

Great clots — of sawdust. . . . "Why^ the 
thing was stuffed ! '^ 

Gasped he. His goodwife smiled. ^'Why 
get so huffed?" 

She said. ^'I could have told you that be- 
fore." 



136 GUI DO CAVALCANTI 

GUIDO CAVALCANTI 

CM e questa che ven ch^ ogn^ om la mira 
Lo ! who is this which cometh in men's eyes 
And maketh tremulously bright the air, 
And with her bringeth love so that none there 
Might speak aloud, albeit each one sighs ? 
Dear God, what seemeth if she turn her eyes 
Let Love's self say, for I in no wise dare : 
Lady of Meekness such, that by compare 
All others as of Wrath I recognize. 
Words might not body forth her excellence, 
For unto her inclineth all sweet merit ; 
Beauty in her hath its divinity. 
Nor was our understanding of degree, 
Nor had abode in us so blest a spirit. 
As might thereof have meet intelligence. 



GUI DO CAVALCANTI TO DANTE 137 

GUIDO CAVALCANTI TO DANTE 
ALIGHIERI 
I come to thee infinite times a day 
And find thee thinking too unworthily : 
Then for thy gentle mind it grieveth me, 
And for thy talents all thus thrown away. 
To flee the vulgar herd was once thy way, 
To bar the many from thine amity, — 
Then when of me thou spak'st so cordially 
When thou hadst set thy verse in full array. 
But now I dare not, so thy life is base. 
Make manifest that I approve thine art. 
Nor come to thee so thou mayst see my face. 
Yet if this sonnet thou wilt take to heart, 
The perverse spirit leading thee this chase 
Out of thy soul polluted shall depart. 



138 PETRARCH 

PETRARCH 

Voi ch^ ascoltate in rime sparse il suono 
You who now hear in vagrant rhymes the 

sound 
Of sighs wherewith I entertained my heart 
When I was other than I am in part, — 
Even in the meshes of young folly bound : 
For moods inconstant wherein I compound, 
Weeping, between vain hope and vainer 

smart, 
Where there is one who knows by proof lovers 

art, 
There may be pity, if not pardon, found. 
Yet hearing well how on men's lips my name 
A byword has been long, oft and again. 



PETRARCH 139 

At mine own self I am myself dismayed ; 
And of my vanity the fruit is shame, 
Yea, and repentance, and discernment plain 
What things men joy in are as dreams that 
fade. 



140 PETRARCH 

PETRARCH 

Lasso, ben so die dolorose prede 
Alas, I know what pitiable prey 
Death, which exempteth none, soon makes of 

all; 
How quickly on the world our memories pall ; 
How little while, and faith is put away. 
Now on my spirit thunders the Last Day ; 
I see for my long woe compassion small ; 
Yet will not Love render me up withal, 
Neither due tribute to those eyes delay. 
The days, the hours, the moments — how 

they hale 
The years away, I know ; nor am bewitched 
Save by a might much more than magic arts. 



PETRARCH 141 

'Twixt will and reason has been battle 

pitched 
Seven years and seven ; yet shall the higher 

prevail, 
If prescience be of good in mortal hearts. 



142 , PETRARCH 

PETRARCH 

Dodici donne onestamente lasse 
Twelve ladies all un wantonly at ease, 
Rather twelve stars and in their midst a sun, 
I saw embarked, joyous, with others none, 
Nor know when this craft's equal cleft the seas. 
Not such was Jason's when he sailed to seize 
That fleece of gold all are now fain to don, 
Nor his — the swain who left Troy woebegone; 
Though the world ring with bruit of both these. 
And her I saw on a triumphal van — 
My Laura with her proud pure mien — anon, 
Sitting apart and singing a sweet song, — 
A thing not earthly, a vision not of man. 
Happy Tiphys, happy Automedon, 
To pilot so delectable a throng ! 



PETRARCH 143 

PETRARCH 

Movesi il vecchierel canuto e bianco 
As wends the aged goodman hoar and pale 
From the sweet spot where passed his prime 

away, 
And from the Httle household in dismay, 
Which from its sight sees the dear father fail ; 
While he along his shrunken limbs must trail 
In these last labors of his earthly day, 
On his good will leaning as best he may, 
Broken by years and by the way worn frail ; 
And comes to Rome pursuant of his quest 
To look upon the semblance of that One 
Whom to behold in heaven he, hoping, waits : 
So I alas ! go seeking off and on. 
Lady, so much as may be, in the rest 
Your own desired, veritable traits. 



144 PETRARCH 

PETRARCH 

Quando fra V altre donne ad ora ad ora 

When among other ladies day by day 
Love Cometh in her countenance divine, 
By all she doth in beauty all outshine 
Grows the desire which holds me in its sway. 
Blessed the place and time and hour, I say. 
Mine eyes first hf ted were to that far shrine ; 
Again I say. Give thanks, O soul of mine, 
That this high homage thou wast chosen to 

pay. 
From her there comes to thee that thought of 

love 
Which, so thou follow, leads to highest good, 



PETRARCH 145 

Making seem small the things on which men 

brood ; 
From her that grace of soul is understood 
Which beckons the straight way that leads 

above : 
So that already high in hope I move. 



146 PETRARCH 

PETRARCH 

Tra quantunque leggiadre donne e belle 

When among ladies howso fair and bright 
She comes who in the world has not her peer, 
With her fair face she makes of others near 
What makes the sun of every lesser light. 
Close at mine ear seems Love then to alight, 
And say: ''The while this one abideth here. 
Shall life be sweet ; and afterward how drear, 
And all worth lost with her and all my right. 
Should nature moon and sun from heaven 

ban. 
Winds from the air, grasses from earth's 

green side, 
Yea, and intelligence and speech from man. 



PETRARCH 147 

And from the sea, fish and the Hquid tide ; 
No lonesomer were all things or more wan 
Than if her eyes death should seal up and 
hide." 



148 PETRARCH 

PETRARCH 

Se lamentar augelli e verdi fronde 

If birds are plaining, or with gentle sighs 
Midsummer breezes through green branches 

ghde, 
Or raucous murmurs of bright waters rise 
To the cool flower-enamelled riverside 
Where at my writing, pensively I bide : 
Then her whom heaven vouchsafed us, earth 

denies, 
I see and hear, and know she has not died, 
But from afar unto my plaint replies. 
''Wherefore untimely wilt thou pine away?" 
All pitiful she says ; "and why still shed 
From so sad eyes these waters of dismay ? 



PETRARCH 149 

Nay, weep not thou for me : my days were 

made, 
Dying, eternal ; and to an inward ray 
Mine eyes, that seemed to close, were opened. '^ 



150 PETRARCH 

PETRARCH 

Gil angeli eletti e V anime heate 

The chosen angels and the spirits, blest 
Citizenry of heaven, that first day 
My lady passed among their bright array. 
About her, worshipful and wondering, pressed. 
'^What splendor is this? what bliss new- 
manifest?" 
Each whispered each. '^From where men go 

astray 
Never in all this age hath winged its way 
Spirit so fair unto this place of rest." 
She, in her soul's new dwelling gladsomer, 
There paragons those God hath highest 
placed ; 



PETRARCH 151 

And nathless now and then she turneth her, 
Looking if I still follow, and goes slow-paced ; 
Wherefore each wish, each thought I sky- 
ward spur ; 
Because I hear her pray that I make haste. 



152 PETRARCH 

PETRARCH 

Levommi il mio pensier in parte ov^ era 

My thought upbore me unto where she was 
Whom upon earth I seek, nor find again : 
There, in that sphere which moveth to Love's 

laws, 
I saw her, loveher and of less disdain. 
My hand she took, and said : ^'Here shall we 

twain 
Yet joined be, unless desire deceive; 
She am I who thee brought to such long pain. 
And mine own day fulfilled ere it was eve. 
My weal is more than mortals understand : 
I wait but thee, and that thou hast loved so, 
My veil of beauty, harbored there below." 



PETRARCH 153 

Ah, wherefore ceased she and let go my hand ? 
For at those words so tender and unstained, 
Little there lacked that I in heaven remained. 



154 GALEAZZO DA TARSIA 

GALEAZZO DA TARSIA 

Camilla, che ne lucidi 

Camilla, thou who in those still and clear 
Fields of the sky a new star art reborn, 
And leav'st me, but remembering thee, to 

mourn. 
Lacking thy comfort in the darkness here, 
To me from time to time thou drawest near, 
Pitiful, yet in the glory of thy new morn 
Such that I scarce may look upon ; forlorn 
Then am I left the more, as thou more dear. 
Hadst thou but stricken both, O Death, how 

far 
Less fell thy stroke ! and I how fortunate. 
Who now alas ! wait where no fair things are. 



GALEAZZO DA TARSIA 155 

Pray thou Our Lord — since men disdain or 

hate — 
Pray, O my saint, that I who once, elate, 
Plucked thee, a flower, may see thee yet, a 

star. 



156 LORENZO DE' MEDICI 



LORENZO DE' MEDICI 

THE ENAMOURMENT 

Fair ladies to the music moved their feet, 

Dancing, sweet love atingle in each breast. 
Fair youths I saw, and maidens shyly meet, 
And hands by hands one instant softly 
pressed. 
Glances and signals, sighs — love's art com- 
plete, — 
Brief words, whose meaning but one hearer 
guessed. 
And many a flower let fall with innocent art, 
To be caught up, kissed, hidden next some 
heart. 



LORENZO DE\ MEDICI 157 

Amidst the pleasures of that brilliant place 
My lady fair, my lady of delight, 

Outgracing all, yet lending all her grace. 
Stood in a garment of transparent white. 

Pleading in parlance mute and rare the case, 
With her eyes to my heart, of love's high 
right : 

— Come, said she unto me, dear heart of 
mine; 

Here, here is peace for every will of thine. 



158 HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER 

^^ HONOR THY FATHER AND THY 

MOTHER '^ 
^' Honor thy father and thy mother," saith 

the letter of the Law. 
Is it duty? and may duty touch the secret 

springs of awe ? 

He that made the parent sacred hath not 
made the child abject : 

All the Decalogues of Heaven cannot legis- 
late respect. 

Honor is but honoris guerdon, else the Hebrew 

prophet lied : 
God avengeth not the parent when the 

parent's will was pride. 



HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER 159 

Cursed be the social custom by whose canons 

it is styled 
Criminal to sell a slave, lawful to enslave a 

child. 

Bought and sold in open market — and we 

others laugh outright — 
Man^s own flesh and blood for money, man's 

own soul for appetite. 

Yes, it's marriage. She is happy. And the 

Turkish bride is so ! 
Both are bred up to the harem, both too 

ignorant to know. 

Riches, titles, creature comforts — these she 
has been taught to prize : 



160 HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER 

Speak to her of love, she simpers, — truth, 
she droops incurious eyes. 

Honor thy father and thy mother for a heri- 
tage Hke this ! 

God hath spoken? — Godf or devil? Man 
hath often heard amiss. 



RIVERSIDE 161 

RIVERSIDE 

Windless waters roll aglaze 
Under smoke-swept purple haze 
Streaked with long, slant, lurid rays. 

Heights across the river seem 

Drifting off like hills of dream, 

On which silvery steam-wraiths gleam. 

Eerily, as daylight dies, 
Motor-cars with nightmare eyes, 
Scuttle past with croaking cri-es ; 

Soon like monstrous spiders run 

Over shadow cobwebs spun 

By trees naked 'neath the moon. 



162 RIVERSIDE 

Where dim buildings loom aline, 
As from many a cliffside shrine, 
Lights in cavelike chambers shine. 

Past the moon-path in midstream 
Lithe tugs leap with sudden scream ; 
Huge squat barges, beam to beam 

Like slaves fettered, three and three, 
With the slave's pace, patiently 
Bear their burdens to the sea. 

Earthward now the young moon slants ; 
Troops of laughing stars advance, 
While the myriad shore-lights dance. 

Nature so glad vigil keeps ; 
And with solemn beauty steeps 
The soiled city while it sleeps. 



NIGHT-PIECE 163 

NIGHT-PIECE 
Over the river on shadowy heights 
Come dancing forth the far shore-hghts 
Like fairies on midsummer nights. 

And the moon with smihng countenance 

Acts chaperon as the stars too dance 

To the tunes the west wind piping chants. 

O^er the tired city that lies adream, 
The skies as with a presence gleam 
Of angels stooping to redeem. 

Like jewelled censers, to and fro 
Sway budded bushes that palely aglow 
Through many a bloom sweet incense blow. 



164 NIGHT-PIECE 

A scowling cloud has scattered the stars ; 
The moon pales, prisoned behind mist-bars ; 
Close by, a man's bitter laughter jars. 

He is telling of want, of vain-sought jobs; 
While the young girl with him softly sobs. 
— Like a fevered pulse this parched air throbs! 

A woman reels by, half dazed with drink ; 
Close to her side two wee tots shrink. 

— These lights, how like evil eyes they wink ! 

:ic H: * * 4: 

Black night has buried the stars and the moon; 
And dismal and shrill drones the wind's 

bassoon : 
For the wind's turned east, and it's out of tune. 

— God pity man's life : it's out of tune ! 



LOVE IS LIFE 165 

LOVE IS LIFE 

For home and wife — since love is life — 
He made him ready to fight his fight ; 
But soft arms held him tight. 

Beat, drmn ! shrill, fife ! — yet love is 
life. — 
He dreamed of his famous victory ; 
But a babe clung ^round his knee. 

Far, far from strife — where love is life — 
He lies beneath where the wild bee sips ; 
And a smile is on his lips. 



166 THE PLEDGE 

THE PLEDGE 

Year after year I drank my toast to Wealth ; 

And Wealth replied: To-morrow is yours 
and mine ! 

Peering one day into the golden wine, 
I saw a wizened, yellow face inside. 

Year after year I drank my toast to Fame ; 

And Fame replied : To-morrow is yours 
and mine I 

Peering one day into the ruby wine, 
I saw a face flushed red with bitter shame. 

All humbly then I drank a toast to Love ; 

And Love replied : To-day is yours and mine ! 

I peered that day into the sparkling wine, — 
A radiant face smiled back at mine above. 



THE ROUND OF PLEASURE 167 

THE ROUND OF PLEASURE 

Squirrel, squirrel, in your wheel, 
Tell me, squirrel, do you feel. 
Whirling, whirling, idly busy, 
Never bored or never dizzy ? 
Will that walled-in, steep, blind alley 
Open in some pleasant valley 
One day, think you ? Or, each time 
On that mo tor- wheel you chmb. 
Do you leave (in fancy) home. 
And where fancy leads you, roam, 
Over tree-tops, dawn-dyed rosy. 
Into hollow tree-trunks cozy, 
Crunching acorns, cheerily chattering, 
Over velvet mosses pattering. 



168 THE ROUND OF PLEASURE 

Till when tired fancy flags, 
And your motor-wheel, spent, lags, 
Back again at your own door, 
Glad to settle down once more. 
You alight then ? Little brother, 
I too have just such another 
Wheel, which racing in, I measure 
Hours and hours, and call it pleasure. 
Yet, small friend, between us two, 
I get very bored. Do you ? 



THE SERVICE OF THE LEAVES 169 

THE SERVICE OF THE LEAVES 
When drear, sear days creep in like thieves, 
Sisterly kind are the golden leaves : 
Through long, warm, simmering summer 

noons 
They have dipped from the sun with their 

emerald spoons : 
Now their hoarded sunshine, scattering, stays 
The famine of these lean fall days. 



170 TO AN EMPTY LOCUST SHELL 

TO AN EMPTY LOCUST SHELL IN 

AUTUMN 

Stark shell, that late a locust sheathed, 
Chirping where sunny meadows, wreathed 
With buttercups and daisies, seethed 

On summer noons. 
Now to this willow trunk bequeathed 

And wintry moons ; 

You hollow mockery of nature, 

Perfect in outward form and feature, 

Who, death mask of yourself, here teach your 

Memento morij 
How often man, your fellow-creature, 

Retells your story ! 



TO AN EMPTY LOCUST SHELL 171 

Who pipes on May morns white and gold 

As if he never should be old, 

But when his autumn days grow cold, 

And early dusk, 
Becomes like you a pithless mould, 

A withered husk. 

Poor husk, I'd like to think your spirit 

A fairer garment might inherit. 

And blithe, through sunnier summers wear it 

Where daisies blow. 
You lived, and chirped : what greater merit 

Has man to show ? 



172 THE THORNAPPLE TREE 



THE THORNAPPLE TREE 

Thornapple tree, what is the sense 
Of wearing such a barbed-wire fence, 
As if you wanted to make rents 

In a chapes breeches ? 
I call it just a vain pretence 

Of secret riches. 

Now were your apples fit to eat — 
Tart Gravensteins or Baldwins sweet, 
Russets or pippins, — you might cheat 

Some hungry spirit ; 
But it's a spinsterly conceit 

In you to fear it. 



THE THORNAPPLE TREE 173 

And yet — who knows ? — thornapple tree, 
The tables you might turn on me, 
And say I guard as jealously 

Things I think pretty. 
But which, if angels stooped to see, 

Would move their pity. 



174 TO A JUNE-BUG 



TO A JUNE-BUG 

Patient, pot-bellied insect-clown, 
Smug in your Quakerish suit of brown, 
Why keep on cracking your poor crown 

Against my shutter, — 
To tumble sprawling upside-down 

In such a flutter ? 

No doubt it's dull there in the gloom ; 
Yet if you got inside my room. 
You'd only flop about, and boom, 

No whit the richer ; 
Till in my lamp you found a tomb, 

Or in my pitcher. 



TO A JUNE-BUG 175 

To follow the gleam beheld afar, 
Or hitch one's wagon to a star, 
Is well for such as poets are ; 

But life discloses 
That we who beat 'gainst nature's bar, 

Just bump our noses. 



176 LOST 

LOST 

One hurried by me through the mist. 

It seemed an old, old man, 
A little frail, infirm old man, 

Who rather leapt than ran. 

A feather floating on the air 

Were not so light as he ; 
But as he passed, I heard him breathe 

Like the wind in a hollow tree. 

All suddenly he stopped, and turned, 
And hushed me with his hand. 

(I heard the breakers boom below 
Around that high headland ; 



LOST 177 

On that lone height I saw no sight 
Should make him peer and peer 

With red bright eyes that blinked bat-wise, 
When he was standing near.) 

'^I have scoured the wood; I have scoured 
the field — 

Wherever a lass might be ; 
And now/' and here he slily grinned, 

''I must go scour the sea V^ 

One instant over his blank face 

That crafty grin was thrown, 
Over the skin like wrinkled tin 

Upon each lean cheekbone ; 



178 LOST 

Then I clutched at the form; but in the 
storm 

It vanished at one bound ; 
And — God knows if a stray loon laughed, 

Or a man laughed so, that drowned ! 



HIDDEN BLESSINGS 179 

HIDDEN BLESSINGS 

I 

A dandelion grew by a grey stone-wall ; 
And grew and grew, till it grew so tall 
That it felt quite sure it could by and by 
See over the wall with its curious eye. 

But though it grew stout on sunshine and 

dew, 
And wrestled for fun with all winds that 

blew, 
Yet, stretch as it might from root to petal, 
The wall overtopped it still — just a Httle. 

And it wondered what lived on the other side, 
And wondered so hard that it almost cried ; 



180 HIDDEN BLESSINGS 

Till its own green meadow looked mean and 

small, 
And happiness seemed just over that wall ; 

Which it scowled at by day, and dreamed of 

at night. 
Till its golden head turned a ghostly 

white . . . 
When a sudden gale clipped those gossamer 

locks. 
And blew them clean over the barrier-rocks ! 

II 
Just over the wall it chanced there fell 
One feathery wisp ; and, strange to tell. 
When the Spring came back, you might have 

seen 
Two dandelions now with the wall between. 



HIDDEN BLESSINGS 181 

One was from last year's root reborn, 
And one was sprung from the tress wind-torn ; 
But both were eaten with envy and gall, 
Because neither could quite see over the wall. 

For the parent's folly was in the seed ; 
And the creed of the one was the other's creed : 
That nothing one sees is really right 
Compared with the things just out of sight. 

So each one envied the other's lot. 
And pined away for it knew not what . . . 
But I wonder though if the farmer's boy 
Added more sorrow or brought strange joy, 
When one day bent on a chipmunk chase. 
He tumbled the wall from top to base ; 
And those envious weeds came face to face ! 



182 ORCHIDS 

ORCHIDS 

'^0 Cinderella, fie!" 
I hear Prince Charming sigh, 
''Why, here's your crystal shoe 
All frozen stiff with dew. 
The pretty, mottled strings 
Are spread hke beetles' wings ; 
The bright toe has a crack ; 
And oh ! the satin back 
Is trodden down quite flat, 
How could you, dear, do that?'' 

'^0 Cinderella, fie!" 

I hear godmother cry, 

''How dare you make my slipper 

A sort of water-dipper 



ORCHIDS 183 

For all the bugs in town 

To tumble in and drown ? 

Well, mistress, since you're proven 

Such an ungrateful sloven, 

I'll turn your slighted dower — 

Hey, presto ! — to a flower." 



184 THE UNIMPRESSIONABLE BEE 

THE UNIMPRESSIONABLE BEE 

The Bee flew into the Garden, 
Where the Rose sat wistful-eyed. 

The Bee flew into the Garden, 
And ever the Heart' s-ease sighed. 

The painted Tiger-lily 

Flamed in her siren guile ; 
The Daisy bobbed and curtsied ; 

The Violet tried to smile. 

The Sweet-pease turned all colors 
When the saucy Buttercup mocked ; 

The Bachelor-button glowered ; 

And the Maidenhair Fern looked shocked. 



THE UNIMPRESSIONABLE BEE 185 

Buzz-buzz sang the Bee in his singsong, 

Till the Bluebell tinkled nigh ; 
There was rapt applause from the Cowslip; 

Tear-dew in the Bright Ox-eye. 

The Foxglove threw down his gauntlet ; 

The Dogtooth bit his lip ; 
But the Jack-in-the-pulpit protested 

When the Snapdragon snapped his whip. 

The Bee flew into the Garden : 
Wear willow, sweet Rose and Rue ! 

For the Bee flew into the Garden ; 
And — out again he flew I 



186 UNDER THE MATRIMONY-VINE 

UNDER THE MATRIMONY-VINE 

In his morning-glory the sunflower rose; 

The merry bluebells rang ; 
Fantastic tripped the mistletoes ; 

A paean the peony sang. 

^' Young marigold marries the maidenhair 
fern," 
The wallflowers whispered, blue. 
The heart' s-ease laughed in her unconcern ; 
But the adder's-tongue hissed, — ^*She 
will rue!" 

Sneered the big begonia, — ''He's under- 
sized!" 
Sighed the passion-flower, — ''He's cold !" 



UNDER THE MATRIMONY-VINE 187 

But the buds all dandelionized 
The dashing marigold. 

A jack-in-the-pulpit published the banns; 

They were wed by a cardinal-flower. 
The bride's lace veil was real Queen- Anne's ; 

A pennyroyal her dower. 

Sweet cicely, primrose, and pale rosemary 
Her train of sweet lavender bore; 

The ushers had goldenrods to carry, 
And bachelor's-buttons wore. 

From pitcher-plants for pick-me-ups 

They drank old hollyhock iced ; 
And sipped tea-rose in buttercups, 

With lemon-verbena sliced. 



188 UNDER THE MATRIMONY-VINE 
Then his good horse-chestnut the groom lark- 
spurred, 

And waved his keen grass-blade ; 
For tiger-lilies had been heard 

To growl in the grim night-shade. 

And a lady's-slipper for luck was shied; 

The trumpet-weed blew a blast. 
'^ Forget-me-not !" then tulips sighed; 

Two ox-eyes were downcast. 



CHRISTOPHER SLY AWAKES 189 

CHRISTOPHER SLY AWAKES 

I dreamed a king, and I seemed a king, 
And I steamed in a king's warm bed. 
Marry ! 
As a man and a drinker, Kit Sly the poor 
tinker 
Had the merrier crown to his head. 
(Says I in the king's great bed.) 

I was clean like a king ; I'd a queen like a 
king ; 
I could lean on a king's gilt throne. 
Marry ! 
A tinker's squat bench and a tinker's fat 
wench 



190 CHRISTOPHER SLY AWAKES 

Are likelier all his own. 

(Says I on the king's tall throne.) 

I was stripped by the king ; I was tipped by 
the king ; 
I was shipped by the king's back-door. 
Marry ! 
I care not a damn, — not a tinker's damn: 
For this being a king's a bore. 
(Says I by the king's back-door.) 



THE FIRST PAIR OF SHOES 191 



THE FIRST PAIR OF SHOES: COB- 
BLER'S SONG 

Home came Adam sore one evening ; 
Cain was naughty ; Eve was cross. 
(It was scrapping, scrapping . . . scrap . . . 
scrap . . . scrapping !) 
''Hang these nettles V muttered Adam, 
"How they sting one! Come now, 
Madam, 
Mop my feet with warm wet moss." 
(It was mopping, mopping . . . mop . . . 
mop . . . mopping, 
Mopping with the warm wet moss !) 



192 THE FIRST PAIR OF SHOES 

Abel heard the father. Abel 
Was a knowing lad, — was he ! 
(Never napping, napping . . . nap . . . nap 
. . . napping !) 
Killed two rabbits, skinned 'em, dried 'em, 
Shaped 'em, sewed 'em, tm-ned inside 'em 
All the nice warm woolly fuzz, 
(Just for wrapping, wrapping . . . wrap . . . 
wrap . . . wrapping. 
Wrapping in the woolly fuzz !) 

Adam laughed, dehghted ; Eve she 
Tittered ; Cain, he scowled. 
(Eyes all snapping, snapping . . . snap . . . 
snap . . . snapping !) 
So the first two shoes were cobbled : 



THE FIRST PAIR OF SHOES 193 

Never after Adam hobbled ; 

Never Eve's white feet were fouled. 
(They went slopping, slopping, slip . . . slip 
. . . slopping, 
Slopping not a bit befouled !) 



194 INQUISITIVE QUATRAINS 

INQUISITIVE QUATRAINS 

Would you rather get busy, or fuss, 

When things are looking bad ? 

Would you rather your friend were a cad. 
Or hadn't a fault to discuss ? 

Would you rather have all go well, 

Orsay— 'a toldyouso"? 

If I morally stubbed my toe, 
Would you rather, or not, I fell ? 

Would you rather be able to frown 

At my mote, or to cast out your beam ? 
Would you rather be drowned up-stream, 

Or once your back's up, back down ? 



INQUISITIVE QUATRAINS 195 

Would you rather your country were right, 

Or be able to prove her wrong ? 

Would you rather cry — ' ' Lord, how long ? " 
Or take off your coat, and fight ? 

Would you rather St. Peter slammed 
Those pearly gates in your face, 
Or find up there in grace 

Some folks your creed had damned ? 

Would you rather your aureole 
In that blessed choir of God, 
Or the loan down here of His rod 

To chasten your neighbor's soul ? 



196 BELLE-O'-THE-MAY 

BELLE-O'-THE-MAY 

" Marry in May, 
Rue for aye!" 

These ravens, dear, croak not aright 
That marriage-bells in May ring rue ; 

For rue is yellow and sour like spite ; 
May bluebells are like you. 

And blue's for hope — so poets tell, 
Constant and sweet and pure and true, 

As is my bonnie own May-belle 
With never a touch of rue. 

With never a touch of rue, wife dear, 
We have gone hand in hand together 

Along life's path this many a year 
Through storm and quiet weather. 



BELLE-O'-THE-MA Y 197 

So may we grow stiil towards God's sky 

On trellises of happy time, — 
You like a flower, sun-lit, and I 

The earth-rooted vine to climb. 



198 THE CITY-CHILD 



THE CITY-CHILD 

Rain-drops splashed on the window-panes, 
And tear-drops on his chubby cheeks. 

He heard the clock tick, tick — it seemed 
The ticks ticked weeks. 

''I think 'twas mean of the dear Lord," 
He said, ^Ho send me to New York ! 

I'd go straight back, if only I 
Could catch that Stork 

^'That took me from the Stars that used 
To let me ride in them, and drive ; 

And where I'd lots of friends, and toys 
That were alive. 



THE CITY-CHILD 199 

*'For my bear Pettijohn, that squeaks, 
My soldiers, and my hobbyhorse 

Up there could play with me ; but here 
They can't, of course." 

Wind-gusts shook the window-panes, 
And weary sighs the little frame ; 

Till the shadows crept to comfort him, 
And the Sandman came. 



200 THE LESSON 

THE LESSON 
He stood in a neat back-yard in town, 
A small boy rigged like '^Buster Brown, ^ 
Legs wide apart, hands clasped behind. 
With something plainly on his mind. 
Beside him a small maid, whose air 
Proved her just old enough to care 
If other children were not ^^nice" — 
Not meaning naughtiness or vice. 
But such as nurses lacked, or shoes, 
Or had dark skins, or might be Jews. 
You must not blame the little maid : 
She only did as grown-ups said. 
But neither nudge or frown could balk 
Her brother of his bubbling talk : 



THE LESSON 201 

He found them quite too interesting, 
This pair of little darkies nesting 
Like crows upon the high board-fence, 
Whose words seemed funny, yet made sense. 
Perched on the roof of a wood-bin, 
She on bent elbow leaned her chin ; 
He on crossed arms : you had surmised 
Them Raphael's Cherubs ebonized. 
After some desultory chat 
And skirmishings 'round this and that. 
Came, like a bolt, the planned attack : 
''Are you so wicked why you're black?" 
(I gasped in my window.) But quite 

bland, — 
''Huh, is youse wickeder when youse 

tanned?" 



202 THE LESSON 

He chuckled. ''Guess we'd match up, 

skinned. — 
See !'' And the dusky youngster grinned. 
The other, though discomfited. 
Yet ralhed once. ''And does,'' he said, 
"Your mother love you just the same?" 
Unruffled still the answer came 
In tones that rang with confident joy : 
"Well, ah should smile ! Ain't I her boy ? " 
— Just then Nurse called to lessons ; one, 
Perhaps, already was begun. 



A NICE (?) DISTINCTION 203 

A NICE (?) DISTINCTION 

Her son had married a fair lady friend, 
The sort young fellows don't write home 
about. 
One soothed: *'It may come right, dear, in 
the end/' 
She said : '^The Lord's ways are past find- 
ing out." 
The mother sighed: ^^But one thing cannot 
mend : 
The woman's not respectable!" /'No 
doubt," 
The comforter smiled back, ''but then, she's 
— well, 
My dear, she's perfectly presentable." 



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simple statement of its principles in relation to life, conduct, and 
art. The introduction on "The Principles of Poetry" aims to 
answer the questions that inevitably arise when poetry is the subject 
of discussion, and to give the questioner a grasp upon the essentials 
necessary to appreciation and to the formation of an independent 
judgment. 

" The Introduction on ' The Principles of Poetry ' should be an 
inspiration to both teacher and pupil, and a very definite help in ap- 
preciation and study, especially in the portion that deals with the 
' Rhythm of Verse.' The remarks on the different centuries, in their 
literary significance and development, are helpful, and the notes to 
each poem, lucid and sufficient."— HARRY S. Ross, Worcester 
Academy, Worcester, Mass. 

For more advanced students 

A History of English Prosody 

From the Twelfth Century to the Present Day. In three 
volumes. By GEORGE SAINTSBURY, M.A. (Oxon.), Hon. 
LL.D. (Aberdeen), Professor of Rhetoric and English Litera- 
ture in the University of Edinburgh. Volume I — From the 
Origins to Spenser. 

Cloth, 8vo, xvu + 428 pages, $1.50 net 

" What strikes one is the sensibleness of the book as a whole. 
Not merely for enthusiasts on metrics, but for students of literature 
in general, it is a good augury toward the probable clearing up of 
this entire blurred and cloudy subject to find Omond's mild fairness 
and Thomson's telling simplicity followed so soon by this all-per- 
vading common sense. . . . The most extraordinary thing about 
this volume is that, unintentionally as it would appear, the author 
has produced the one English book now existing which is likely to 
be of real use to those who wish to perfect themselves in the formal 
side of verse composition." — The Evening Post, New York. 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York 



A History of English Poetry 

By W. J. COURTHOPE, C.B., D.Litt., LL.D., Late Pro- 
fessor of Poetry in the University of Oxford. 

Cloth, 8vo, $3.23 net per volume 

VOLUME I. The Middle Ages — Influence of the Roman 
Empire — The Encyclopaedic Education of the Church-- 
The Federal System. 

VOLUME II. The Renaissance and the Reformation — 
Influence of the Court and the Universities. 

VOLUME III. English Poetry in the Seventeenth Century — 
Decadent Influence of the Feudal Monarchy — Growth of 
the National Genius. 

VOLUME IV. Development and Decline of the Poetic 
Drama — Influence of the Court and the People. 

VOLUME V. The Constitutional Compromise of the 
Eighteenth Century — Effects of the Classical Renais- 
sance — Its Zenith and Decline — The Early Romantic 
Renaissance. 

VOLUME VI. The Romantic Movement in English Poetry. 



" It is his privilege to have made a contribution of great 
value and signal importance to the history of English litera- 
ture."— Pa// J/«// Gazette. 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York 



SEP 28 19U 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



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